


rewritten

by krowlin



Category: Minecraft diaries - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Gen, Magic, More tags to be added, Shadow Knights - Freeform, THIS IS MUCH DIFFERENT THAN THE ORIGINAL, by god zane is getting a redemption arc, canon is a ball of yarn i have transformed into a cardigan, genuinely dont have a clue what to put here, its mcd. thats the concept. different! but mcd, just so you all know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28229901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krowlin/pseuds/krowlin
Summary: In simple words, Minecraft Diaries, the roleplay survival series from my childhood, rewritten.MCD means a lot to me and I wanted to give my take on the storyline (with some added changes). Please enjoy :]More tags to be added as the story progresses. Updates when possible.(Aphmau goes by a different name in this!! The story takes inspo from both the rebirth and original series. Please enjoy :])
Comments: 20
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> if youre one of my mutuals you havent heard the end of this project and now its finally here!!!! updates might be a bit sporadic as this is a LONG work but its one of my biggest hyperfixations rn so heres hoping i can finish it >:]!! aphmau will be going by a different name in this story. this takes inspiration from both the remake of diaries and the original series. pls enjoy and leave a kudos/comment if u did!!! its a rlly big motivator :] <3

Vylad didn’t know what he was expecting. 

Nobody in that damn province was normal, and Hyria was the worst of said province-dwellers. She was horribly nice, of course, letting him stay and drink her best tea with homemade cake when he needed a taste of something kind, but he’d never admit that, especially now. 

Regardless, he was here now, running through the woods as fast as he could because that staff Hyria gave him  _ turned into a lady  _ who had locked eyes with him and he needed to get out  _ now.  _ She seemed confused more than anything, opening her mouth to speak, but Vylad wasn’t exactly the most charismatic guy, and didn’t want to risk anything by staying around too long. So, he ran until his breathing grew harsh enough to feel painful, ending up in the middle of the woods. 

“Put this where Irene’s blessing is needed most,” she had said. It made sense, he supposed, but he still didn’t expect it. 

There was a village nearby, and a broken one at that. It wouldn’t hurt to stick around a while and watch and see how she fared, right? As long as she found her way to town, she’d be fine.

Hopefully. 

\---

_ “Keep this safe for me,” she had said. Something cold and long in her hands, the image of it obstructed from her memory. A woman was there, taking the thing with a reserved reverence.  _

_ “Anything for you.” The other woman paused. “..Will I ever see you again?” _

_ She smiled, but the pain behind it all was almost overwhelming. “I can’t promise how she’ll act.” _

_ “She?” _

_ “You’ll see.” She placed a gentle hand on the other woman’s cheek, looking up to meet her eyes, but her features were blurred beyond recognition. “One day.”  _

_ Silence fell upon the room. _

_ “I’ll miss you,” she finally murmured. “But, we’ll meet again soon, Hyria.” _

With that, her eyes opened. 

The dream was already quickly fading from her memory, confusion and the vision of a panicked man in front of her taking its place. The man looked… surprised. Worried. Half of his face was covered with a scarf, and he looked about three seconds from bolting.

“...Hello?” She asked, voice shaky and weak from lack of use.  _ How long have I been asleep? Where am I, anyway? _

The man considered for a brief moment, but before she could say anything else, he had started running. 

Scrambling to her feet, she called after him, and the chase began. She was disoriented to say the least, and the fact that she didn’t know where she was--or who she was, for that matter--didn’t help, but this was the only person she had seen, and the fact that he was running away was extremely incriminating. 

It didn’t take long for her to lose him. He was agile and blended in with the surrounding foliage, his palette of greens and greys disappearing in the trees. She came to a skidding halt, gasping for breath against a tree. 

No use in trying now, she supposed. The forest was already making itself known to be long and confusing, and she didn’t want to get more lost than she already was. She wouldn’t forget, though. She’d find him eventually.

She slid down to a sitting position, knees pressed to her chest as she surveyed her surroundings. It was morning, and by all means, the forest was beautiful, but she still felt sour and disgruntled.

_ I need to get home,  _ her first thought was, but that raised a question she wasn’t prepared to answer:  _ where the hell is home? _

She should know. Logically, she should know who she was and where she was and how to get back but when she tried to poke at any memories it left an ache behind her eyes and more questions left unanswered. Logical answer: amnesia. That man had hit her over the head, or found her like that and happened to be jumpy, and when she woke up it startled him into leaving. 

The only problem was it didn’t seem right. Amnesia doesn’t take away all of your memories, only recent ones, or a specific chunk of time. She should remember something, anything at least. She could always be wrong, though. Maybe her basic knowledge left along with everything else.

_ First order of business: find home. Whatever that means.  _ That seemed easy enough. Chances are, she lived nearby. Simple deduction. Damn, she was good at this.

Slowly, shakily, she got back to her feet and started walking in the direction she had been running previously, a newfound pep in her step as she let her goal fuel her actions.  _ This is good. I’m doing good. _

It became increasingly apparent that she was, in fact, doing an  _ amazing  _ job because around half an hour later she found herself bumping into another person.

He was short, a beanpole of a guard with a helmet a size too big for his head and a half-broken sword he carried like it was the strongest weapon in the world. He yelped when they hit each other, neither one of them quite paying any attention to where they were going, and raised his sword with the widest eyes she had ever seen.

“Who are you?!” He yelled, trying very hard and failing even harder to sound the slightest bit intimidating. He still had something sharp, though, so she backed up with raised, placating palms.

“Who are  _ you? _ ” She asked right back, raising an accusatory brow. She couldn’t let this man (boy?) know she didn’t even remember her own name.

“Ze-” he stopped himself short, “I don’t have to tell you anything! What business do you have in these woods?!”

“Last I checked, it wasn’t illegal to take a walk.”  _ Is it illegal to go on a walk now? Shit.  _

The man narrowed his eyes, a tense silence between them before he finally lowered his sword. “...Okay, fair. You’re not from Phoenix Drop, though. I know I haven’t seen you around. Where are you from?”

“There’s a town nearby?”  _ Phoenix Drop.  _ She had never heard of that place before.  _ Where the hell am I? _

He nodded, an air of confidence in his eyes. “The best town in the province!” He didn’t seem to believe it. “Well, that’s what Lord Malik says, at least. Are you lost or something?”

“...Yeah. Can you take me back to this Phoenix Drop? I think I made a wrong turn.” 

He nodded again, beckoning for her to follow him. Quickly, it became apparent that he was very,  _ very  _ chatty. She had learned more about this town than she had ever hoped to learn in the span of a few minutes as he led her back to the so-called ‘best town in the province’.

Phoenix Drop did not live up to the expectations. This was to be expected, but she was still a little disappointed at the dead crops and broken fences. A man sat in the farmland (if you could even call it that) trying desperately to fix a broken hoe. He waved at the guard, interest piqued by their arrival. 

The guard took off his helmet, sighing. He had messy, reddish-brown hair that fell around his eyes he didn’t care to push away. “‘Morning, Brendan.”

“Hi Zenix!” The farmer, now known as Brendan, responded, walking over. “You’re back earlier than usual. Did Dale actually do his job for once?” He chuckled. Brendan was tall. He looked almost nervous to be around Zenix, even though he could clearly take him in a fight. Zenix seemed displeased by his happy air.

“No, that would take a miracle. But, I had to come back early because I found this woman wandering in the forest!” He stepped aside, gesturing towards her. 

“Hello there!” Brendan outstretched his hand, and she hesitated for a moment before finally taking it. His grip was firm and calloused. “I’m Brendan, pleasure to make your acquaintance! What’s your name?”

She faltered for a brief moment, letting go oh the handshake to fidget with the fabric of her skirt. She didn’t even remember where she got said skirt. 

“...I’m a very private person, you see,” she began, “I don’t like to share my name with strangers.”  _ Nice. _

“Ah. That’s okay!” Brendan said, giving her a reassuring smile. “I understand.” Then, to Zenix, “She and Garroth would get along great, huh?”

Zenix, surprisingly, nodded in agreement. “I guess so. Speaking of, I should probably go tell him about… this.” He gestured vaguely to her. 

“Should I come with you?” She asked. This Garroth character seemed… interesting. Zenix had stood a bit straighter when he was mentioned. 

Zenix shook his head. “No, but he’ll probably come back with me. Stay here for a bit, I’ll come back soon.” He gave her a confident smile. “Brendan! Watch over this maiden until I return! Maybe she knows how to farm and we can actually grow something for once.”

“Yes sir!” Brendan responded rigidly. As Zenix left, he slowly deflated, letting his posture fall with a tired sigh. “Sorry about him. He’s still an apprentice, but thinks he owns the place. You get used to it.”

She nodded slowly, scanning the surrounding village as Brendan began to talk about the crops. 

People were out, chatting with each other as they went about their daily tasks. Despite the state of their village, they seemed happy. She turned her attention back to Brendan. He, similar to the others, was surrounded by ruin. Rotten crops and horrible soil were everywhere he stepped, but he still talked about it fondly, a gentle smile on his face as he reminisced when the wheat would grow better. 

She smiled, a sense of pride bubbling up in her chest.  _ I knew I did the right thing. _

_ Right thing? What did I do? _

“-but, uh, anyways, I’ve been rambling. Where are you from?”

“I don’t remember,” she responded without thinking. She felt dazed, almost, as the confusion bubbled back to the center of her thoughts.  _ Right thing. Right thing. This is a start, what did I do that was right? _

“...What?”

She paused, staring wide-eyed back at Brendan. “Oh, uh, I’m joking,” she said quickly. “I live pretty far away in a really small town, so I don’t really expect anyone to know about it. Sorry.”

“Oh!”  _ Good. He believes me.  _ “That makes sense, ha! What’re you doing this far out, then? Especially in a little town like ours.”

“Well…” she scanned the area for any options of what to say, when she met eyes with Zenix. He waved, gesturing towards a person in full armor behind him. 

The person was tall, intimidating even without a face. Zenix had since then taken off his chest plate in exchange for casual clothes, a white button up and dark brown pants, but the other person looked just about ready for an invasion.  _ As if anyone would want to invade this place, anyway.  _

Brendon grinned. “Hi, Garroth!” He called, waving. “That’s Garroth. He’s the head guard around here. Not the biggest fan of showing his face.”

“I see.” She studied him carefully, watching how he held himself as they walked over. His presence seemingly caused everyone else in the area to stand up a bit straighter, looking forward with a regal air despite the lack of any discernible features. Everyone seemed to know him. He looked hard to forget. 

Something peaceful settled in her chest as he got closer. His very presence was protective, calming. Familiar. Despite the confusion of her situation, she suddenly felt safe. 

“Hello,” he said. She wasn’t sure how, but he sounded overwhelmingly like a guard. 

“Do I know you?” She asked all of a sudden. She already knew the answer--all signs pointed to yes. If only she could put a face to the feeling.

This question, somehow, caught him entirely off guard, along with both Zenix and Brendan. Zenix stared at her, shocked, eyes darting between her and Garroth. 

“...Does she?” He asked in a loud whisper, looking back at her with a new, cautious admiration.

“To my knowledge,” Garroth began, quickly composing himself, “No. I would recognize your face.” 

_ Wrong. That’s wrong. That has to be wrong. _

She hummed noncommittally, letting her eyes fall to the ground. Familiarity was quickly seeming to be more annoying than being left in the dark. “Must be a coincidence, then.”

“Well, anyway, Zenix tells me he found you walking in the woods,” Garroth continued. “Where are you from, and is there anything we can do for you?”

“Yes, actually.” She stared straight into the black pit of where his eyes would be. “Is there any way I could start living here? The details of my situation are unimportant, but I’m looking to move.”

Garroth nodded slowly, considering. “That seems reasonable, yes. Zenix?”

“Yes sir?”

“Go and ask Donna if she knows of anywhere she could stay.”

“Yes sir!” Zenix marched off into town. 

Garroth turned his attention to Brendan, but their voices were blurring together. She couldn’t place it, the way he sounded so… familiar. Who was he to her? Was it really all a coincidence?

“-Hello? M’lady?”

She blinked rapidly, coming back to the present, where Garroth was waving an iron-clad hand in front of her face. “Huh?”

“I was asking your name,” Garroth said. Brendan wasn’t there anymore. 

“S-”  _ Seraphaura.  _

She stopped before she could finish, eyes widening. Seraphaura. Seraphaura. Was that her name? Seraphaura, the woman with no memory?

“Yes?” He prompted gently. “I understand if you don’t wish to tell me, Brendan said-”

“Seraphaura,” she interrupted. Then, more confidently, “My name is Seraphaura.”

“Great! Nice to meet you, Seraphaura.” He held out a hand. Seraphaura shook it, and for a moment could suppress the twinge of familiarity in the cold metal against her hand. A name. That was one step closer to finding out who she used to be.

Zenix came back shortly after with a woman next to him--Donna, she supposed. She was all dry remarks and surprisingly gentle smiles, a sugar-sweet woman that made Seraphaura chuckle under her breath with every snide comment shot Zenix’s way. She was kind, comfortable. It had been five minutes since Seraphaura had met her, but she was already calling her ‘Sera’ (a welcome, warm change, surprisingly) and slinging arms over her shoulders.

Donna led her back to what she had dubbed the Atrium, one of the oldest, biggest houses in Phoenix Drop. The inside was warm, the smell of fresh baked bread wafting through the air. It was gorgeous in a strange way, the homey feel more overwhelming than the general mess. 

One of the steps leading up to the rooms was broken, but those going up and down seemed to ignore it like it wasn’t there in the first place. A fireplace crackled quietly, blending nicely with the quiet conversation between two women in front of it, sitting between mutual knitting materials. The kitchen was no different--messy, but smelling overwhelmingly of a home Seraphaura didn’t know. The window was open, a loaf of bread cooling on the sill. A woman Donna called Molly greeted them easily, unperturbed by the guest.

Donna led her up the stairs and through a door to a surprisingly clean room. Bookshelves lined the walls, along with a bed in the very corner, crisply made with a vase of yellow carnations on the bedside table. A woman sat at a table, thumbing through a large, complicated looking book, underlining and annotating where necessary.

“Emmalyn!” Donna called from the doorway, causing the woman to jump, ink slashing across the page. 

She groaned in frustration. “You have to stop doing that, Donna! All my books are going to be ruined if you keep scaring me!” She paused for a moment, staring at Seraphaura and Donna with narrowed eyes. “...Who’s this?”

“Sera.” Donna placed a hand on her shoulder with a grin. “She’s new here in Phoenix Drop. How d’ya feel about a temporary roommate?”

“Oh,  _ absolutely  _ not,” Emmalyn responded, shutting her book and returning it to the shelf. They seemed to be coded by author. She seemed to have memorized where each one went. Sera wasn’t exactly sure she was too excited about this either.

“Relax, darlin’, I said temporary. Plus, Sera won’t give you any trouble, right?” She patted Sera on the shoulder.

Sera nodded gravely. She had only known Donna for around an hour, but would rather die than make her mad. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Donna snorted, giving her one final, playful punch in the shoulder. “Told ya. I’ll leave you two to get to know each other, alright? I need to go get you a mattress, anyway. See you soon!” She waved goodbye, shutting the door behind her. 

Sera and Emmalyn were left in silence, staring awkwardly at each other. Emmalyn looked frazzled, blonde hair tied into a loose, messy ponytail and glasses slipped half down her nose. Her hands were covered in ink, leaving a smudge on her cheek as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“...So. You’re Sera.”

“Seraphaura, actually. Donna just… calls me that.” 

Emmalyn nodded in understanding. “She called me Emma for the first week I was here, but I asked her to stop enough that it became annoying, so she stopped. I’m sure she’ll do the same if you ask.”

“That’s okay.” Sera liked it, anyway. A new name made newer. 

Silence again. Emmalyn moved to the bookshelf, pulling out a new book. “Make yourself at home, I guess,” she muttered, focused almost entirely on the new pages in front of her. She dipped her pen in the ink again. “Just don’t touch my books.”

Sera nodded slowly, moving quietly around the room. There wasn’t much that had any distinct emotion; the only decoration was the flowers, but even those seemed to blend into the book-clad walls. It was comfortable enough, though. That’s what mattered, at the core of it.

“Do you have any paper?” Sera finally asked, wincing at Emmalyn’s icy glare as she handed over an extra pen and a scrap of paper. “...Thanks.”

Sera moved to the farthest corner of the room, placing the paper on the floor and writing in bold letters at the top “ _ THINGS I REMEMBER. _ ”

_ “NAME - Seraphaura _

_ Woman from dream - can’t remember her name. _

_ G̶a̶r̶r̶o̶t̶h̶?̶” _

Nothing else came to mind. She turned the paper over, writing at the top  _ “THINGS TO LOOK INTO.”  _

_ “Man from the woods _

_ Garroth _

_ Lady from dream _

_ Where I am _

_ Home” _

She stared at home for longer than intended, pen still pressed against the tail of the ‘e’ and now making a pool of ink bleeding straight through the paper and onto the floor. Emmalyn seemed unaware anything was amiss, so Sera snuck out quickly to grab a rag.

_ Home. I’ll find it. Soon.  _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy the chapter <3 zenix supremacy

Phoenix Drop was far from a nice place, but the kind people balanced it out. The next day, Seraphaura went into town and made Brendan teach her how to farm. 

“...Well, ‘course I will, but why?” He asked, a confused, lopsided smile spread across his cheeks. 

“Because this town needs more farmers,” she responded simply. This was enough for Brendan to start talking at speeds probably faster than light itself about farming, crops, and all things related. He seemed oddly excited about the subject, expressive hands filling Sera’s vision as she mentally took all the notes she could.

“-And that’s how you sow seeds, but it won’t be much use here,” Brendan sighed, kicking a stray pebble. “The soil hasn’t grown anything for a few years now.”

Sera stared at Brendan’s face, studying the downturn of his lips and the scar in his eyebrow. This meant so much to him. This, a world underneath the ground Sera had never known to appreciate until now, was something Brendan valued like his life. Everything in this village depended on the soil and the roots underneath it.

It was then that Sera vowed to herself that she would fix this. Brendan had a wonderful smile, damn it, people deserved to see it more. Everyone in Phoenix Drop, she decided, deserved a bit of joy today. 

She knelt down, placing a gentle hand on the soil. It was hard, rocky. She took a clump in her hand and felt it, felt the weight and the grime and the beauty in the untapped potential it had. There was so much life that could thrive if just one patch of soil would allow things to grow in it. She let the dirt fall through her fingers.

This, Sera began to realize, was powerful. The soil, the roots, everything down to the very core of the earth was the reason that everything around her was moving. She held it again, just to feel it, the power thrumming in her palms.

That’s when it happened. A painful glow behind her eyes, the ringing in her ears, and the lush grass surrounding her where she had fallen over. 

Brendan was shouting, bent over her, cupping her face helplessly like it would do anything. The ringing hadn’t stopped, and despite the fact that she knew he was shouting (as, much to her chagrin, several people were stopping what they were doing to come over), it still sounded barely above a whisper. 

Her head throbbed like it had never throbbed before. She could have been bleeding. It was all impossible to tell, vision half-blurry and thoughts half-coherent. She muttered something, mentioning a name that she didn’t recognize, forcing herself to pay attention to mark it down for later, but it was fading quickly.

Luckily, the ringing began to fade as well. Brendan was still yelling, asking her if she was okay and  _ “Oh my Irene I’m so sorry” _ .

“S’okay!” Sera slurred, raising a weak hand. “Hit my head. Pr’bly.” 

Sera had closed her eyes for a second, but when they opened again, she was on her mattress in Emmalyn’s room. Brendan was the first person she saw as she shakily sat up, pacing around the room, worrying his bottom lip. Emmalyn, who she was less pleased to see, was there as well, head stuck in a book, but there was a different, nervous energy even around her. Sera considered this a win, despite the pain in her head.

Taking a closer look at the room, she saw Garroth and Donna in the corner as well, talking in hushed voices. It was all coming back slowly, the dirt and the crashing into said dirt, the shouting and the pain.

“..Hello?” She said, and three pairs of eyes (plus one helmet) snapped in her direction. Donna and Brendan had the same reaction, calling her name and running up to her, immediately bombarding her with questions of how she was feeling and if she needed anything. She brushed them off quickly, instead choosing to ask a question of her own: “What happened?”

“I was telling you how to farm, and you knelt down and started touching the soil? And then you passed out, but-” Brendan looked around nervously. “Uh. What did you do to that dirt, exactly?”

Sera shrugged noncommittally, eyes darting away. “Nothing, really. Just… touched it. Then, everything was bright, and… yeah.”

Brendan and Donna exchanged a worried look, and Emmalyn, eyes still trained on her book, looked like she was about five seconds from combusting of curiosity. Garroth stayed in the other corner of the room, arms folded, emotion unreadable as always. 

The room felt wrong right now, all the attention focused on her, little, invisible needles pricking at her skin. Exhaustion weighed down her bones. It was too bright and it hurt and she just wanted to go home but she didn’t even know where home was, and the prospect seemed further away with each passing day.

“Is Esmond one of your friends?” Brendan asked all of a sudden, and for a brief moment Sera’s thoughts were replaced with a stream of  _ how does he know that name  _ and then  _ how do  _ **_I_ ** _ know that name _ soon after.  _ Esmond. Who is Esmond? _

“...What?” Is all she could think to say in response.

“You said something about someone named Esmond while you were kind of incomprehensible. Could’ve imagined it, but…”

_ Esmond. Write that down. _

She nodded. “Probably. Uh, can we get back to farming?”

“Not a chance, darlin’,” Donna said before Brendan could respond. “You need your rest. I don’t know what happened, but you’re obviously tired.” 

“I’m fine!” She protested, but the look in Donna’s eyes made her realize that there was no getting out of it. “..Can I at least take a walk?”

“If Garroth comes with you,” she conceded. “Don’t want you fallin’ over again.”

Garroth nodded. “That seems wise. I need to patrol anyways, if you still want to come along.”

Sera considered for a moment, lips pursed in a thin line. “Okay. Can we leave now?”

“If you’re alright to walk.”

Donna and Brendan watched her like one wrong move would make her explode as she slowly got to her feet. Waking up disoriented was easier the second time, it seemed. She gave them a confident smile. 

“Do you need anything?” Brendan asked, at the same time as Donna, “If you get hurt, just holler.”

“I’m fine,” Sera said, an exasperated, fond smile on her face. Brendan and Donna seemed unconvinced, but let her go anyway. 

Garroth led her out and to the edge of town, fidgeting with the hilt of his sword. It was midday, the cool breeze a gentle and welcome change to the warm air. 

“Zenix is out on patrol,” Garroth began, “Or, should be, anyway. He was supposed to come back around an hour ago. You and I will go look for him.” 

Sera nodded slowly, eyes scanning the treeline. “He sure is a character, huh?”

To her surprise, Garroth laughed. It was quiet, a little chuckle under his breath, but still made her eyes dart over to look at him and a smile quirk on her lips. He covered a mouth with his hand that she couldn’t see--probably a force of habit.

“Something like that, yes,” he responded, shaking his head. “He’s… feisty, I know, but he really is a good kid.” He paused, sobering up, “It’s how he was raised, I think.”

“You think?”

He hummed. “I met him when he was younger. He won’t tell me much about it before that.”

Silence fell between the two, the sounds of birdsong and wind combing through the trees overcoming the need for conversation. They began walking.

“Where are you from?” Sera finally asked.  _ Maybe I’m from there too.  _

“I’ll only tell you if you tell me where  _ you’re  _ from,” he responded easily. Sera cursed under her breath, and he laughed again. “It doesn’t matter, anyway,” he continued, “The past is in the past. What matters now is my duty as a guard. I have no other home than Phoenix Drop.”

Seraphaura kept her eyes carefully trained on the forest floor, letting Garroth’s words echo in her head.  _ The past is in the past. Does it really matter who I was before I woke up? _

She opened her mouth to respond, but she was quickly cut off by the sound of someone groaning in pain to her left. The two stopped in their tracks, silence filling the air once more. Garroth made a shushing motion, a hand hovering over the hilt of his sword as he crept into the brush, motioning for her to stay.

She didn’t listen, however, quickly rushing up to follow him, peeking over his shoulder to try and see what was going on. 

Zenix was there on the floor, curled in on himself, clutching his arm that was most certainly bent the wrong way. His helmet was nowhere to be found, hair a matted, twig-filled mess. Garroth ran forward, kneeling down next to him and helping him to a sitting position. There was a sort of unhinged panic under his words, something more to the frantic questions he was asking. 

“Zenix? Zenix, can you hear me?” He asked frantically, pulling off the armor on his hands to check his arm. His hands were shaking, a small tremor that vibrated all through him and manifested in his tone.

“...Garroth?” He murmured weakly, head turning to look at him. One of his eyes was already bruising. He smiled. “You found me.”

“Of course I did,” Garroth responded. “I’m never leaving you behind, Zenix. Where does it hurt?”

They continued this song-and-dance of Garroth asking gentle questions and Zenix answering them to the best of his ability. He had no answer when Garroth asked him what had happened.

“We’re going to get you home, okay?” Garroth said, trying his best to gently hoist Zenix into his arms. “Irene above, you’re gonna get yourself killed one of these days.” He clutched Zenix like he was the most important thing in the world, and to Garroth, that might very well be a reality. He looked at Sera with a newfound stoicism, inhaling sharply. 

“Zenix is badly injured,” he said in the most monotone voice he could manage, “How fast can you run?”

Somehow, Sera managed to get to Phoenix Drop only a few minutes after Garroth, gasping and heaving as she leaned against a battered shop stand in the plaza. A younger one of the guards was there (Brian, Donna had called him yesterday), and came up to her to say hello.

“Lady Seraphaura, right? It’s nice to meet you!”

“You too,” Sera said in between breaths, running a hand through her hair. “Do you know where Garroth went?”

Brian raised an eyebrow, thinking for a moment. “I didn’t see Garroth come this way. Do you need him?”

“I’m more worried about Zenix, really.”

“...What? Is he hurt?”

Seraphaura paused for a moment, worrying her bottom lip. “It’s not… serious,” ( _ total lie _ ) “But he got hurt on patrol.”

Brian hummed, lips pressed into a thin line. “Hm. Lord Malik’s house, I’d assume. He’s good with potions. It’s that way.” He pointed northward, giving her a kind smile. “Give Zenix my best wishes.”

Sera nodded, and with that, she was off again, rushing to the home of the local lord. Somehow, she hadn’t met him yet. No better time than the present, she supposed.

Malik’s home was nothing extravagant; an old, wooden thing covered in vines. Garroth sat on the porch, holding his sword and twisting it around in his hands. It was a beautiful sword, really, bluish metal carved into jagged edges. The hilt was black, golden, engraved words around the handle that Sera couldn’t read from where she was standing. There was a gem of some kind fastened to the bottom, a yellow, shimmery thing tightened to the hilt with strong twine. 

“Is Zenix alright?” She asked, walking up the steps to join him. 

“Lord Malik said he would do what he could,” Garroth responded. The exhaustion in his voice was palpable, the adrenaline finally wearing off.

Sera sat down next to him, amusing herself with the way her chair rocked back and forth. 

“...I should have come for him sooner,” Garroth murmured, grip tightening around his hilt.

“It’s not your fault.” 

“I know. I just…” he trailed off, but the message still shone clear:  _ I don’t want him hurt. I  _ can’t  _ have him hurt. _

Sera frowned, turning her eyes toward the foliage in front of them. She wanted to speak, wanted to comfort him in some way, but there was nothing to be said. 

“I’m sorry,” she finally tried, fidgeting with the hem of her dress. At this rate, it was going to fray. It was inevitable anyway, she supposed. Everything must come to an end.

Garroth sheathed his sword, getting to his feet. “No matter. I’m going to go ask on Lord Malik’s progress.”

Empty silence was left in his wake. Sera stayed put, hands clutching her skirt as she tried to think of something, anything else to keep her mind off of the picture of Zenix on the ground. 

Flowers dotted the field below her, reds and whites of wild daisies and the like thriving in the spring air.  _ Zenix deserves better.  _ Two robins, preening at their feathers, rested on a branch.  _ He could be dead by now.  _ The ocean was nearby, if Sera strained her ears, she could hear the faint sound of waves crashing.  _ Zenix. Zenix. Zenix. _

She didn’t have to wait much longer, though-- the door swung open just moments after she had decided to barge in. Garroth passed by, carrying Zenix. The latter seemed worse, almost; his arm was in a splint, but the bruising hadn’t stopped and the pain on his face was clear. The former would be easy to look over, but the way he clutched at Zenix, iron curling around the guard oh so protectively… it wasn’t hard to work out the result of the meeting.

Sera followed after him. “Is he okay?” She already knew the answer.

“Lord Malik says there’s nothing he can do,” Garroth responded, level voice on the verge of shattering, “He doesn’t have enough energy to make more potions. We might have to amputate his arm.” The anger in his voice was an undercurrent, a small taste of his real feelings. He paused, sighing under his breath. “I’m taking him back to the guard station. Maybe I can do something.”

“I can help,” Sera piped up, realizing soon after that there really wasn’t much she could do.

Garroth knew this. Of course Garroth knew that Sera would be useless, but after a small pause he nodded anyway, leading her to the guard tower. 

The guard tower was less of a tower and more of a normal house with a plaque over the door. The inside was no better, of course--Sera was noticing a theme with this village--but it was functional. Zenix was placed on a bed upstairs, and Sera took her place sitting next to him. 

Garroth sat on the other side, placing a cold washcloth on Zenix’s bruised eye, fussing with the splint, even if by the looks of it that was where his expertise came to an end. 

Garroth was angry. He was downright  _ pissed.  _ Sera could tell in the tremor of his hands, the gentle yet fiery way he studied the damage done. There was a sort of gentleness reserved only for moments like these, it seemed. Garroth had made himself known to be so quiet, so stoic, but all of it seemed to fall away when Zenix was in danger.

“Are you and Zenix related?” Sera asked.

“No, but we might as well be,” Garroth responded tiredly. “He… doesn’t have the best preservation instinct. He needs someone to protect him.” 

Sera paused, staring at Zenix. “He’s lucky to have someone like you.”  _ Along with everyone in this village. _

“Thank you, m’lady.” If he smiled, Sera couldn’t tell, but a small part of her hoped he did. 

\---

When Sera came back the next morning to check on Zenix, he was awake, sat up but still bedridden, despite his constant protest. Sera had brought some bread Donna had made (she was too busy to come along), placing it on Zenix’s bedside table and sitting down on the bed next to his.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” he responded bluntly, scrubbing a hand over his good eye. “-Ah, sorry! Garroth says I shouldn’t curse,” he said before Sera could respond. “I feel bad,” he corrected. 

“...Great,” she said. “Anyway, Donna wanted me to give you this bread. Where’s Garroth?”

“Out on patrol.  _ My  _ patrol,” he grumbled. “I should be out there, but he says I’m still too injured to be walking around.” 

Sera looked at him. All signs pointed to Garroth being right-- chances are, Zenix couldn’t even see out of his swollen eye, much less use his broken arm. By all means, though, he seemed… fine. Happy, even. Regular ol’ Zenix.

“Zenix,” Sera started gently, “If you’re feeling up to it… can you tell me what happened yesterday?”

He paused, lips pursed in a thin line as he fidgeted with the moth-eaten blanket covering his legs. “I wish I could tell you.”

“...What?”

“Well, I just… I don’t remember,” he said simply, laughing a little. “I was walking, and then… I woke up in Lord Malik’s house, my arm hurting like hell.” The laugh gave way to a frown, confusion tinting his words.  _ I feel you, bud. You’ll get used to it. _

“That’s okay,” she opted to say, giving him a comforting smile. “I’m sure you’ll heal up soon.”  _ Even if he doesn’t, Garroth won’t be able to keep him in bed for very long.  _

Zenix grinned again, previous introspection forgotten. “Damn--er, dang--straight!” He began to delve into his plans for the second he wasn’t bedridden anymore and for a brief moment Sera could understand how Garroth felt. 

“I should let you get back to resting, then,” Sera said. Zenix looked vaguely crestfallen but waved her off anyway, telling her to thank Donna for the bread and punch Brendan (‘but not too hard!’) for him. 

Sera stepped out of the guard ‘tower’ with a quiet sigh. It was still early, the village getting a fresh start on the work of the day. She scanned the area, eyes meeting Donna and someone she had yet to see wandering the streets of Phoenix Drop. He had short, black hair and seemed to be setting up a shop, chatting with Donna all the while. He seemed friendly enough, hauling saplings and bags of grain out of an old cart. Sera walked over.

“--Yeah. The moon’s almost--” Donna cut herself off as Sera came close, a smile spreading across her face. “Sera! Paul, this is the new villager I was tellin’ you about. Sera, Paul, Paul, Sera.”

Sera gave Paul a polite nod. “Nice to meet you. Are you new here too?”  _ Are you someone like me? _

“Something like that,” Paul responded, glancing at Donna. “I’m a merchant from Brightport. Donna and I go way back, so she’s helping me set up shop! Care to buy some seeds?”

“Oh come on, Paul. Don’t you try with her,” Donna said exasperatedly. “Don’t worry about him, dear. He’s always trying to make a sale, even if you think he isn’t.” Donna punched him gently in the shoulder.

“That’s the merchant way,” he responded simply, a grin on his face. “Well, anyway. Visher’ll be here soon, I think he’s collecting the last of his things.” 

“Slow as ever,” Donna returned, rolling her eyes fondly. “Sera, want to come with me and help Visher?”

Sera nodded, giving Paul a wave as they walked in what she assumed to be the direction of the docks. She hadn’t been yet. The ocean was as exciting a prospect as ever.

“You and Paul must be close,” Sera prompted.

Donna snorted. “Nah. Well, I guess so. He and I lived together for a while after I ran away from home,” she said breezily. 

Sera hummed in response, not really knowing what to say. “Zenix told me to thank you for the bread.”

“Glad he liked it. You want to know my secret, why the bread is so good?” She asked, stage-whispering, a goofy grin on her face. 

“Why?”

“I make Molly bake it!” And she laughed as if it were the funniest thing in the world, so Sera gave a cautious chuckle as to not upset her. 

Donna shook her head. “Ah, Molly’s a good sport about it- she bakes in place of rent, and nobody complains because her food is amazing. I think she’s cookin’ dinner tonight, what with Paul’s new shipment of food, so you’ll probably get a taste.” She grinned. “Ah, ‘n there’s the man of the hour. Visher!” She called, waving.

There was a ship tied to the rickety, old dock. A man, Visher, was dragging crates into a cart, stopping when he noticed Donna and Sera on the sand. He wiped a hand over his brow, smiling back at them.

“Donna!”

“C’mere, you son of a bitch!” Donna rushed past, enveloping him in a hug, laughing all the while. “Irene help me, it’s been forever since I’ve seen your face. How’s Merida? John?”

“Great as always,” Visher responded, breaking away first but keeping her at arm’s length. “Who’s this?” He looked at Sera, a curious smile on his face. These merchants sure did smile a lot. Sera wished she could match the energy.

“This is my new friend, Seraphaura, but we all call her Sera.” Donna wrapped an arm around Sera’s shoulders, and Sera could practically feel the lax joy radiating off of her. Even Donna, adaptable and impossibly friendly, had an element, and this was it. 

“Sera! Wonderful to meet you!” Visher shook her hand vigorously, beaming all the while. “Where are you from? Are you visiting?”

“I moved here recently,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t pry past that. He didn’t, but the curious glance he spared her way before returning to Donna was enough for Sera to know there would be follow-up questions eventually. 

“Phoenix Drop needs more bright, young people,” Visher said, nodding in approval. “Balances out with the lord.”

“Visher, don’t you start-”

“For someone smart as you, you sure take a lot of shit, Don,” Visher cut her off, a bittersweet fondness behind his words. “Malik doesn’t care. He never did and never will. Hell, Paul and I’re half of the reason this village is still alive.”

Donna sighed, but nodded anyway. “I know, I know, just…”

“I’m sure you’ll get a better Lord one of these days. Didn’t Matilda have a kid recently? Put him on the throne, he’d probably do a better job!”

Donna snorted, shoving him playfully. “Irene, you’re insufferable. Anyway, need any help over here? That’s why we came, after all.”

“Nah, I’m about done anyway,” Visher responded, glancing back at the abandoned cart. “Your company is always welcome, though.”

They walked back to the plaza together, Donna and Visher catching up while Sera trailed behind, paying more attention to a small snail travelling along a leaf. It looked so peaceful, so calm just to wander in a world too big for it. 

When she looked up, eyes centered on the treeline, she saw him again.

The man, the one person there when she had awoken, hands curling around the bark of a tree as he peeked from behind it. Quickly, as if he was never there, he disappeared, and once more, Seraphaura was alone.

“Sera?” Donna said from behind, a gentle hand placed on her shoulder. “You alright, darlin’?”

Sera hummed quietly in response, trying her best to act as if Donna hadn’t startled her. “I saw a snail. Zoned out.”  _ Not too far from the truth for once. _

Donna smiled softly in return, hand lingering on her shoulder for a moment. “Visher went up ahead. Almost left ya.”

They finally reached the plaza to see Visher at his stall, making casual conversation with Paul as they set up their respective shops. All the while as she helped with busywork, Sera can’t get the man out of her head-- not in a sense of infatuation, but irritation.  _ He’s still here, watching me. What’s the point? What do I have that he wants? _

Sera made a brief mental note to tell Garroth about it, something to keep an eye out for on his next patrol. Maybe he was dangerous, or something. He didn’t look dangerous, though, not really. Just… confused. Scared, even. Curious. 

Maybe Garroth didn’t need to know about this, either. Sera could figure it out. She could figure this all out on her own.

She abandoned her place at the stall, giving Donna, Paul, and Visher a wave goodbye. Her first agenda: get to the guard ‘tower’. Dale and Garroth should be back from their respective patrols by now, putting away their armor and weapons (in Dale’s case, at least) and enjoying the rest of their day. She’d talk to Dale then, probably drunk off his ass as he tended to be, and ask him if she could accompany him on patrol. Great plan. Perfect plan.

When she reached the guard ‘tower’, however, Dale was the last person on her mind. Zenix was there when she opened the door, sitting at the table with clasped hands and a set jaw. 

Zenix, in the short time that Sera had known him, was not an angry person. Irritated on occasion, sure, but never angry. He always brushed everything off, leaving a smile on the faces of him and everyone around, goofy grins replacing any previous bad blood, but this? Someone had fucked up. 

“...Zenix?” She asked cautiously, stepping in.

Zenix didn’t respond for a moment, inhaling and exhaling in slow succession, as if to calm himself. Then, finally, “He’s choosing not to help me.”

“What?”

“Lord Malik,” he said, meeting her eyes, “Is choosing not to fix my arm. I saw it, Seraphaura, I saw the potions in his house. I woke up in there and saw them. Garroth said he said he didn’t have any extra. I’m… I’m not worth his time, apparently.”

“That can’t be true,” Sera said, because it couldn’t. A Lord wouldn’t do that. A Lord wouldn’t choose not to help a guard, the one sworn to protect them, a Lord wouldn’t be that selfish. Right?

Zenix stood. He was shaky on his feet, wincing as he tried to stabilize himself with his bad arm on reflex. “...I’m going out on patrol.”

“Garroth said-”

“I don’t care what Garroth said!” Zenix shouted, the echo leaving a scarred reverberation in her ears. His features softened soon after, though. “...Sorry. Sorry, I’m out of line. I… I should go back to bed, huh?”

Sera nodded. There was nothing else to say.

“I need more rest,” Zenix said. “I’ll be back to normal soon. I’m sorry. Please, uh… have a good rest of your day, or- or something. Sorry.” He gave her a halfhearted smile before finally dragging himself back up the stairs, and for a multitude of reasons, Sera’s heart ached.

The masked man, she decided, could wait a little longer. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ch 3 :] merry christmas eve!!!   
> tw for brief mentions of child death- no actual death  
> shorter one today! but i rlly fuckin love the shadow knights

Gene stared at the back of Vylad’s head, twisting his dagger in his hands irritably. He was still looking at that damn village, keeping watch despite the fact that there was nothing to watch for.

“What do you want?” Vylad asked all of a sudden, almost startling Gene. Almost.

He chuckled. “Didn’t think you knew I was here.”

“I’m not an idiot, Gene,” he responded, glancing over his shoulder to spare him a dirty look. 

“Oh really?” Gene slowly walked over, raising an eyebrow, “Because, if my sources are correct…” He leaned in, their faces only inches away, the dagger now at Vylad’s neck, “Malik isn’t dead yet. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you what happens if you refuse to follow simple orders.”

Vylad’s eyes were closed, hands in tight, knuckle-white balls. “Okay. I’m sorry.” 

Gene smiled. “Glad to see we’re on the same page.” He slid the knife back up his sleeve. “Get it done soon, or you’ll get much worse than a scratch.”

Vylad turned around again, facing the village once more. Gene could see it better from over Vylad’s shoulder-- a bunch of ignorant fools going about their day. 

“Tch. Well, anyway,” Gene said, turning around and walking back to the treeline, “Get it done. I’m off.”

Vylad gave a casual, two-fingered salute, not turning to look at him. 

Gene snorted.  _ Irene, he’s a bitch.  _

\---

Despite his survival instinct and desire to keep Gene off his ass, Malik was the least of Vylad’s problems. That woman had seen him watching her a few days ago, he was sure of it. The only problem was figuring out if she was going to do anything about it or not. 

She was doing well, by what he could see. The villagers seemed to like her fine, and she was slowly but surely becoming more prevalent in the village. She was helpful, probably more helpful than the actual Lord, and that was part of the problem. Killing Malik would do nothing if she proved to be Lord material, and Vylad would feel  _ really  _ bad if he had to kill her.

He tried not to think about it. Key word being tried. 

The forest surrounding Phoenix Drop was nice at this time of year, though, and as much as he wanted to wallow in the realities of his situation there was a pleasant breeze and emotions were few and far between as a shadow knight so he focused instead on the birdsong and the dappled light on his hands.  _ Much nicer than blood.  _

Even a heartless being subsisting of carnage and murder could enjoy a nice morning, and goddamnit Vylad was going to.  _ Was,  _ at least, for as he started to wander along one of the many trails winding through the wood, he heard a voice and had to scramble to hide before someone saw him. 

_ I really should be better at this by now,  _ he mused irritably, picking away a thorny vine from his sleeve. The voice was getting closer, morphing into more of a low hum of music instead of actual conversation.  _ Probably only one, then-- a guard on patrol?  _

The song was recognizable, surprisingly, a jolly tune he remembered from long ago-- something sung by his mother whenever he needed cheering up. It was popular back in O’khasis, but not something he expected to hear this far north.

For a moment, he smiled, closed his eyes and relished in the sound before, without thinking, humming along. Then it stopped, the song and footsteps coming to an abrupt, incomplete halt.  _ Shit.  _

The only noise was the light clinking of armor as the guard in question probably turned around, looking for the source of the noise.  _ C’mon, guard, it’s all in your head! Please believe it’s all in your head. Irene help me… _

“Hello?” 

That’s when it hit him. That’s when he realized, panic (and yet, a strange sense of calm) stuffing his throat, that this was a familiar voice. He couldn’t place it, not exactly, but it was one he recognized, and he shuddered at the thought. Regardless, he kept his mouth clamped shut, and came to the revelation that he was going to be hanging near Phoenix Drop much longer than previously intended.

Soon after, the walking returned, then faded in the same fashion as the guard kept walking. The humming was gone, however, and Vylad was left feeling colder than he did previous. 

If Sasha were here, she would have followed the guard to mess with them, but Vylad was not Sasha and instead decided to change direction towards Malik’s home. Might as well scope out the area, he supposed. Find out how to make it look like an accident. 

He always hated this part, the planning. The anticipation crawling up your spine, the ideas numbly flowing despite that little bit of humanity screaming at you to stop. He’s killed innocents. Too many to count, he thought, or maybe he just made Gene make him forget, but it’s a big enough number to be nauseating. 

As he knelt behind the trees, studying vantage points and escape routes, he wondered briefly if his brothers would be proud of him. The answer was no. It was always no. 

He tried his best to think about them often, musing on the past more than a shadow knight should. Gene tried to make him forget them once. It didn’t work. Irene knows how many more times he had tried. 

The problem isn’t the fact that he chooses to remember, it’s that he can’t forget. Gene explained once (though, the memory is now foggy in his brain, ironically) that some things just… stick. Magic can only do so much. 

Sasha doesn’t remember. Not much, at least-- Gene made sure of that. She only remembers the bad things, from what Vylad had heard. How she died. How they didn’t even try to help her. She always talked about the memories freely, but still used potions to cover up the scars. 

Gene didn’t talk about his own past. Even Sasha didn’t seem to know anything about him before he was a shadow knight, but the communication amulet he kept on him at all times spoke volumes. Vylad had never seen him talk to it, but on brief occasions he could be seen holding it, listening aimlessly to the murmuring on the other side. 

It was probably nothing, another shadow knight maybe, but the way he looked at it was enough for Vylad’s curiosity to pique. He didn’t push, though, because there was no way in hell Gene would talk, and Vylad would probably lose a finger in the process.  _ Dramatic prick.  _

Didn’t matter much, though. Shadow knights usually didn’t talk about ‘before’, as it were. Sasha was always rather open about it all, but privacy in the matter was a one of the only things he and Gene seemed to agree on. He never told them about his brothers. Vylad wasn’t exactly the best younger sibling, but he could do that much for them. He just hoped they were well nowadays. 

He didn’t know how long it had been since he had seen the two. A few years, at least, but keeping track of time in the Nether was harder than dealing with everything else. Almost worse than having Gene working with him. Almost.

Not for the first time, Vylad found himself aching for home. As if it was a concept still familiar to him-- home was a place he left long ago. A place he  _ chose  _ to leave long ago. 

It wasn’t all his fault, he supposed. Not his fault he died. His hand ghosted over his abdomen-- the scar was still there, he assumed, but he couldn’t make himself check. He should be glad, really, glad he didn’t die in such an obvious way. Sasha had to live with the burns rippling down her face, and Gene the ugly, red line circling around his neck. 

The details surrounding the pasts of his colleagues were cloudy at best, but one thing was for certain: none of them chose this. This life (or lack of, rather) found them, gripping them by the scruffs of their neck and chucking them head first into a hell only they could bear. None of them chose this, but they thrived despite it all, like weeds through cobble. 

He hated it. Irene above, he hated it. There was nothing he could do, however, and a Lord who needed to die, so he scrubbed at his eyes, begged himself to focus, and went back to work. 

\---

Vylad held the flint and steel in his hands with purpose. Night had fallen several hours ago, the village finally asleep. The stars were out, constellations dotting the sky above him like the pattern on a blanket, and if it weren’t for the sick anticipation he felt he could have enjoyed the night.

How he always ended up with the dirty work was a mystery, but he was certainly quicker at it than the others. Gene was too slow, too torturous, drawing it out for the thrill of it, and Sasha… well, she was more useful elsewhere, brewing potions and keeping Gene from doing things he’d regret (i.e. killing Vylad. He thanked her often for that one).

No matter, anyway. He was here now, flint and steel in hand, making the trek back to Malik’s house from his makeshift hideout. It was cold, surprisingly so, and a small part of him wanted to laugh.  _ Won’t be much longer.  _ He clutched the flint and steel a little tighter.

Sneaking in was no issue. The windows were unlocked, a sure sign of a lord with too much confidence (and, subsequently, guards who didn’t care). He wandered for a small while, staring intently at the items strewn on the counter as if they would stop him, but he was just delaying the inevitable. 

The fireplace was where it would begin. Lord Malik must have forgotten to put it out before heading to bed, and it caught and the house was eaten up in the process. Nobody’s fault. A simple, deadly mistake. 

He lit the curtain first, watching it for a moment as sparks turned to flames, when he heard the soft footsteps behind him. He whipped around to see a woman and a baby in her arms. She was crying.

He was going to speak. Going to apologize. Nothing came out.

“He’s going to die, isn’t he?” She asked, voice shaky and barely above a whisper. “Me too, right? And Levin?”

He nodded numbly. “I… I’m sorry,” he finally spat out, a weak sense of regret forming in his gut. A mother and her baby. Dead because of him.

“Don’t be.” She smiled, voice breaking at the edges, “He- he doesn’t deserve to be the lord. Irene, just-” a choked sob interrupting her speech, “-knock me out. I- I don’t care, I just don’t want to see my baby die.”

Vylad was going to hate himself for this later. He paused for a moment before finally grabbing her arm and leading her out.  _ Can’t get punished if Gene doesn’t know about it, right? _

“Go,” he murmured. “Off the path, there are cairns you can follow to my hideout. I’ll be there soon, I have food and shelter, I just…”  _ Need to see this through. Irene, I’m so sorry. _

“I can’t stay here,” she responded. “I can’t- I can’t endanger him like this.” 

“Do you have a better idea?” 

She paused for a moment, biting her lower lip. Vylad was familiar with the song-and-dance probably going on in her head-- she had a plan, but neither of them were going to like it. Finally, she shut her eyes, handing him the swaddled baby. “Take him. I… I’m sure you can find someone to take care of him. I can go off, make my way to another town, I just…”

He nodded in dazed understanding. “...Okay. Okay. Be safe on your journey. Don’t trust anyone.” He paused, looking at the baby. Blonde hair curling around his closed eyes.  _ How ironic.  _ “Once word gets out, they’ll be looking for you. I’ll keep him safe.”

She smiled a pained, rue-filled smile and wiped a few tears from her eyes. “Thank you. Goodbye.” With one final kiss pressed to the forehead of the child, she left, and Vylad felt cold. 

He watched, watched the fire grow until he was bathing in the orange light. It was hot. The air seemed to burn. He could see the fire rage on inside, the silhouette of someone in the kitchen. Malik in his last moments, Vylad assumed, too disoriented to give it a second thought. 

He walked back to his hideout, muttering strings of curses, quickly followed by ‘ _ wait, shit, what if the baby can hear me?’  _ so he opted for silence instead. The absence of fire left him freezing, clutching to his cloak. He reached the hideout, that battered old thing-- it was a hole in the side of a mountain, a shitty, old thing certainly not prepped for an infant. 

Babies couldn’t be that hard to take care of, right? Vylad could find a willing, merciful soul to take it off his hands soon, anyway. He set the thing down on his ‘bed’ (a pile of straw with a stolen pillow and blanket) and stared at it intently. Levin, his name was. Vylad grabbed a sliver of wood from his fire materials, carving the name into it and setting it next to the child. Levin.

  
Vylad rubbed a hand over his face as he waited for his own fire to start, sighing.  _ I didn’t sign up for this shit.  _ It was small and defenseless, though, and this was the least he could do for her. He’d find someone to help this damn kid, and nobody would stop him. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a few shadow knight things: shadow knights can kill each other but are otherwise immortal. they dont need sleep but usually do anyways   
> i love sasha so much guys. please

Sera got the news of Malik’s death the morning after the fire. She didn’t grieve-- she hadn’t known him afterall, but everyone around her was acting… different. It was only natural, she knew this, but it all felt wrong and out of place despite this. 

The guards seemed the most affected. Scratch that, Garroth seemed the most affected. He had been the one to tell her, coming into the Atrium and announcing to all in the main room about what had happened. He sounded tired. Hurt. 

Donna had mixed feelings on the whole situation, from what Sera could tell. She had left the second Garroth broke the news, making a beeline for the plaza to talk to Visher. Almost everybody was fine, really-- a bit on edge, sure, but overall fine. Life went on, the sun still set, flowers still bloomed. Death was just another part of the day. 

Donna had given Sera some money the day prior, telling her very seriously not to get scammed. Sera was now in the plaza, taking a long look over the plants in Paul’s cart. Visher was out for the day apparently, but Donna was still hanging around his booth, keeping his merchandise fresh. 

“What is this?” Sera asked, holding up a small sprout. Little white flowers with gold in the middle bloomed. The leaves felt coarse, but she was enamored by the thing.

“Damn, do they not have strawberries this far north?” Paul said, raising a humor-filled eyebrow. Sera did not laugh. “...It- it’s a strawberry bush,” he finally answered, “They have red berries? Have you seriously never seen them?”

“Of course I’ve seen strawberries,” she said defensively. “I… well, these ones just look… weird.” 

“Are you calling my merchandise weird-looking?”

“Nevermind! How much is it?” 

He chuckled a little, shaking his head. “I’ll give you a deal since Donna likes you. How about five?”

Donna had told her about bartering, but Sera wasn’t taking any chances. She put five of the coins on the table. Paul handed her the plant, and she left with a small, embarrassed goodbye.  _ Strawberries.  _

Sera walked to the docks to sit (Emmalyn didn’t enjoy company and the sea air helped her think), the strawberry plant sat square in her lap as she stared out at the salty waves. They ebbed and flowed as if it were the most natural thing in the world, carding through the sand and returning home in quick succession. Going forward, regressing. Going forward, regressing. 

She enjoyed the water greatly. She often wondered, toes buried in sand, if she lived in a place like this before everything. Maybe in a little cottage by the shore. She’d enjoy that. 

Malik’s death did not affect her, not in the truest sense. They had no relation, no common thing connecting them, and yet still his absence left a dread in her gut that was not there yesterday. People die, it happens often, and yet she was still here, thinking about it like it was the end of the world. Maybe to some it was.

“Have you lost anyone?” She asked aloud, under her breath but there all the same. She had no answer other than  _ I do not know.  _

Eventually, she got up, putting the incessant thoughts to rest. To her knowledge, Garroth was at the guard ‘tower’ getting some much-needed sleep, so she headed there first. Zenix would most likely be there as well, probably elated at the company. 

However, when she reached the door, she bumped straight into the chestpiece of none other than Garroth. He apologized profusely and Sera cursed his height, but he overall seemed… fine. Better than that morning.

“Are you feeling better?” She asked all of a sudden, interrupting his string of anxious ramblings.

“...I’m sorry?” He asked, a breathless laugh dusting his tone. 

“You seemed really sad this morning.”

“Oh! Well, ah, yes, I suppose. There’s work to be done, no time to- to wallow,” he responded, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. “Anyway, um. Why do you have a strawberry plant?”

“It’s for you, actually,” she said, a strange sort of embarrassment creeping up her tone. “Thought you might like something nice, what with… everything. I don’t know. It’s.. been a while since anything like this has happened to me.”  _ Not exactly untrue! That’s a win. _

“This is… for me?” He asked softly, letting Sera place it in his hands. “I.. I couldn’t possibly accept--”

“Just take it,” she responded exasperatedly (yet fondly all the same), “Unless you don’t want it, of course! I don’t want to force you to take it if you hate it, or- or something…”  _ Please don’t hate it. Please don’t let me make your day worse. _

“No,” he responded, with more ferocity and protectiveness than expected. He cleared his throat. “Ah, it’s… it’s good. It’ll make a lovely addition to my area in the tower. Thank you very much, Seraphaura.”

She grinned, relaxing a little. “Great! Anyway, where are you going?”

“Looking for Zenix,” he said, and Sera was certain he would be rubbing his eyes right now if they were accessible. “He left a note, said he was going off today, but he’s in no position to go out, and-”

“Garroth,” Sera said, as gently as she could manage, “Has it occurred to you that you’re in no position to go out either?”

“I’m fine,” he protested, “I- I feel perfectly fine.”

“Your lord died yesterday.”

He had no response.

“I’m sure he’s fine, but I can go look for him if you really want,” she said easily.  _ Even if he declines, I might do it anyway.  _

He paused, considering. Sera was patient. “...If you would, that would help a lot,” he said. “I’m not sure how I can thank you enough.”

“Perfect! And don’t worry about me, I’m strong enough to hold my own”-- _ Probably _ \--”so, just rest easy, okay? You deserve it.”

He sighed quietly. “Thank you again, Seraphaura.” 

“Don’t mention it.” she smiled. “Well, I’m off to find Zenix, then! See you later!” She waved, calling out the final words as she started to walk in the direction of the woods. Garroth waved back, telling her to be safe. 

Sera enjoyed the woods around Phoenix Drop every time she got to explore them. It was so lush, so many creatures calling it home, it… called to her, in a way. The forest yearned for company, and she was more than happy to give it.

It was pleasantly warm out today, the noonday sun pouring through the holes in the trees above her. Flowers were blooming-- daisies and buttercups Sera had read about in Emmalyn’s books. She picked a few as she went, knotting them together into a makeshift flower crown, placing it atop her head and scowling when half of it fell apart on impact. 

She got distracted easily, but it was hard not to with all the wonders of the flora and fauna surrounding her. She had no real plan of where to go-- Zenix was extremely unpredictable. He could be halfway across the world at this point, but Sera wanted to put Garroth’s worrying to rest and this was the best way to do it. She didn’t plan to find anything.

Sera was now beginning to realize, as she knelt down before an injured animal (a dog of some sorts), that plans oftentimes will go awry in any way possible. 

It was a little thing, small enough to carry. It was unbelievably light, cold and frail despite the warmth around them. She held it close to her chest, stroking its matted, bloodied fur in an attempt to comfort it. Nothing else in sight, no mother or other dogs, just one dirty, weak pup that Sera now felt the need to protect with her life.

The paths were long and winding, but she was somehow beginning to get used to them. There were landmarks-- a gnarled tree leading one way, blooming daffodils leading another. Sera walked down one path leading her to the edge of Phoenix Drop where Lord Malik’s house once stood, a dilapidated ruin of charcoal in its place. Brendan was there, working away at tearing down the walls as someone Sera had yet to see stood on the sidelines, chatting easily.

“--Oh, hey Sera!” Brendan called, waving. “Haven’t seen you all day!” He abandoned the previous project, climbing down a ladder to greet her. “Whew. It’s hot out today, isn’t it? ...What do you have there?”

“A dog,” she responded distractedly. “Found it in the woods. I… I think it’s hurt.”

Brendan started talking, but the other person had caught wind of the conversation and shoved passed him before he could answer. She wore an apron with a heart patch stitched on, her red hair tied in a loose ponytail. She gently took the dog from Sera’s hands, checking it over. 

“Brendan, do you have any extra of that beef jerky?” She asked.

Brendan sifted through his pockets, pulling out some dried meat wrapped in paper. The woman took it, feeding it gently to the dog. Brendan gave Sera a fond, exasperated look, glancing back at the woman as she stroked the dog’s fur.

“First off, this is a wolf,” she pointed out, “Secondly, he’ll be fine. Just give him some extra food, water, and rest!”

“Thank you,” Sera said, marveling at how quickly she diffused the issue. “I’m Sera. I don’t think I’ve seen you around?”

“Kiki! And, probably not. I came by today with my hamsters! Thought some people might need a little bit of joy after what happened-- Brendan told me everything.”

“Kiki’s my sister,” Brendan explained. “She’s a big animal fan.”

“As everyone should be!” Kiki responded without missing a beat. Sera was certain they had had this conversation more than once. 

“What were you doing in the woods, anyway?” Brendan asked after a moment, eyes looking over the dog now nibbling at his jerky.

“Garroth has me looking for Zenix.”

“...Is he not resting in the guard tower?” 

_...Shit. Garroth probably didn’t want people to know about that.  _ “Oh! He… was? He left a note, so I’m sure he’s fine, Garroth was just… worried.”

“Ah. Sounds like Zenix-- not the note, but I’d believe anything you told me about that kid these days,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Doesn’t surprise me that Garroth’s worried, though. He’s like Zenix’s mom! Just… don’t tell him I said that.”

Sera snorted. “Sounds about right.” She let her eyes fall on Lord Malik’s old home-- what was left of it, that is. The sight of it made her grimace, the sootstained, gutted-out walls falling as if they had never stood in the first place. It invoked the type of uncomfortable horror that was quiet, creeping up your spine, a reminder that accidents had consequences too. “Do you need any help?” She finally asked, swallowing the thick cotton in her throat.

“Not yet. I should be done for the day soon,” Brendan said, sighing. “Hopefully Zenix will be back tomorrow-- he’d be more help than  _ some  _ people.” He elbowed Kiki.

“Hey! I’m best as emotional support!” Kiki retorted, folding her arms.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, you loser,” Brendan chuckled. “Well, anyway. I’m probably going to stop for now, it’ll be dark in a while and I still want to give Kiki the grand tour of what’s changed since she last visited.”

_ Wow. Where did the time go?  _ Sera wondered, staring at the two siblings bicker. 

“Are you going to keep the wolf until he heals?” Kiki asked, cutting off Brendan’s playful bullying. “I can take him off your hands if you can’t.”

Sera stared at the dog, contemplating for a moment. Emmalyn would be furious, of course, but Donna liked her just enough that she might get away with it. “...I think I will, actually.” 

Brendan grinned, ruffling his fur. “Perfect! I’m excited to see this little fella around town more often. What’re you going to name him?”

“...Thorgi,” she said decidedly.  _ Thorgi? What the fuck is a Thorgi? _

“Thorgi,” Brendan echoed. “Interesting!”

Sera picked Thorgi up. “I think I’m going to give him a bath,” she said, nose wrinkling as he sniffed curiously at her face. “Have fun with your tour. It was nice meeting you, Kiki.”

“Likewise!” Kiki gave her a final, warm smile before she and Brendan left, walking in the direction of the plaza. Sera made a mental note to come by later to see Kiki’s animals.

Sera walked back to the Atrium, snagging a bucket and rag from the main hall and returning outside so she wouldn’t make a mess inside. Molly was sitting outside under a tree, washing her own set of clothes, humming quietly to herself. 

“Afternoon!” Molly greeted. “Nice to see you, Sera.”

“You too,” Sera responded, struggling to make Thorgi sit in the water. 

“I didn’t know you had a dog.”

“I didn’t! Found him out in the woods today-- Brendan’s sister told me he’d heal up if I kept him for a little bit. I’m calling him Thorgi.”  _ Dumbest name in existence.  _

Molly scratched Thorgi behind the ears, smiling. “How cute! I used to own a dog, but when I met Dale, I had to give him away to focus on family. Irene knows he would have gotten more attention than my own husband, ha!”

Sera chuckled, but there was still something bothering her. Who was Irene? Almost everyone in Phoenix Drop had mentioned her at least once but Sera had never seen her around. 

“Say, uh… is Irene one of your friends?” Sera finally asked, feeling oddly embarrassed.  _ Another thing I know nothing about.  _

“You shouldn’t joke about the Matron like that,” Molly said. “It’s fine if you don’t worship, Dale doesn’t either, but she still deserves respect-”

“No, I… I genuinely don’t know who that is,” Sera admitted. “I’m sorry.”

Molly looked baffled. “...You sure are a strange one, Sera. I can’t imagine living in a place that doesn’t worship Irene. But, ah, she’s one of the Divine Warriors. She, along with the other five, are worshipped for their efforts in protecting Ru’an and the surrounding regions. Irene is worshipped the most around these parts because she created the lord system. She was extremely powerful-- I and many others see her as a goddess.”

“What about the other Divine Warriors?”

“I don’t know too much about them,” Molly admitted. “I do remember Shad and Enki… oh! Esmund, of course, and-”

“Esmund?” Sera had heard that name before. Where had she heard that name before?

“-Yes, Esmund. The Protector, I think? Emmalyn probably has a book or two on him. Why are you so curious about him?”

Thorgi had been entirely abandoned at this point, finally accepting his fate and sitting in the water, gnawing at the rag while Sera’s mind raced.  _ Esmund. I know that name, where do I know that name?  _ Finally, it hit her: Brendan. Brendan had said that name when Sera woke up a few days ago.  _ “Is Esmund one of your friends?”  _

“...I think I’ve heard about him, s’all,” Sera said. “But, uh, tell- tell me more about Irene.”

“Hm. Well, history-wise I’m not the best person to ask. Emmalyn really likes that stuff- but I know she isn’t the kindest when studying. She was always known for being very kind, helping whoever needed it. She was a great person, and we can all learn from her.” Molly sighed, dumping out her bucket of now dirty water. “Well. That’s the end of my laundry. Have a good day, Sera!”

“You too,” Sera responded.  _ I have a friend named Esmund. Brother, maybe? Lover?  _ She groaned in frustration.  _...I’ll figure it out. Eventually. _

\---

“You’re being too brash, Gene.” 

“Since when have you cared about this?” Gene asked, stopping in his pacing to turn and look at Sasha. “What, are you taking his side?”

Sasha rolled her eyes. “I’m not here to take sides. I just think you’re overreacting-”

“ _ I’m  _ overreacting?” Gene cut her off incredulously. “They only found one body in the fire. The wife and kid escaped, Vylad could be betraying us and you have the  _ audacity  _ to say-”

“Gene. Please.”  _ Use your thick, jealous skull for once.  _ “Vylad has been acting weird, sure. But that doesn’t mean you should kill a random civilian. That’ll just put more suspicion on us-- what if you get caught? Malik’s death definitely won’t be seen as an accident then, and it’ll be on our heads.”

Gene opened his mouth to speak before finally closing it ( _ thank Irene _ ) with a frustrated sigh. “...You’re right, but we can’t let him off the hook so easily. He’s been paying too much attention to that village. He’s up to something, I can feel it.”

“We can deal with that when we see him next. The most important thing right now is that new shadow knight.” 

“I don’t care about the other shadow knights,” Gene said. Sasha raised a doubtful eyebrow. 

“..Right.”  _ He didn’t just spend the past ten minutes complaining about Vylad, sure.  _ “Well, maybe you should. This one lives in Phoenix Drop-- we should keep an eye on him. I don’t want to stay here either, but he has potential, from what I’ve heard.”

Gene narrowed his eyes. “...Fine. But if Vylad acts up again--”

“I’ll talk to him if you keep watch on my potion stand,” Sasha offered. “Once it turns orange, take it off and cork it. Don’t get any on you- you won’t die, but it’ll hurt like a bitch.” 

“Why have you been making so many potions recently, anyway?”

Sasha shrugged. “Just in case we run into trouble.”  _ Just in case  _ you  _ run us into trouble.  _

“Hm. Well. You should go look for Vylad, then.”

Sasha didn’t want to get up and talk to that mysteriously annoying son of a bitch, but Gene was much worse and it gave her an excuse to leave, so she said her goodbyes, grabbed some potions to help, and started walking around. The bugs and hazy, cold air were unwelcome, but she grit her teeth through it and started looking for any calling cards of Vylad’s presence, which were honestly already hard to find-- he was good at hiding in the forest, frustratingly so. 

Vylad had remained a mystery to Sasha ever since she first awoke in the Nether. He was kind to almost everyone when needed, showing more politeness and common courtesy than the majority of the shadow knights Sasha had met. You could have told her he was a prince and she would believe you, what with his posture and funny vocabulary. 

He was so goddamn observant, never letting himself say anything beyond the bare minimum, always watching. Sasha often wondered what was going on behind those attentive eyes, but she knew deep down she’d never get an answer.

Gene was closer to him than Sasha was, before they had a minor falling out, at least. ‘Minor’ wasn’t the right word-- nothing was minor when it came to Gene. Still, neither seemed to know anything of substance about the other. They were already both rather private about their pasts, but Gene was never one to keep his nose where it belonged when it came to others. She was mostly just surprised Vylad managed to stay so resilient when faced with Gene’s constant pestering.

Sasha didn’t want to hate him. Quite honestly, she’d rather be his friend, if not just to spite Gene. Vylad was hard to be around, though. He wasn’t the kind to socialize with the others. He was a strange one, always keeping to himself, always watching everyone else like he wasn’t there to begin with. He probably wished he wasn’t.

Sasha sipped at her potion of night vision, blinking rapidly as everything got brighter. She didn’t blame Vylad. Not really, at least-- shadow knights usually had horrible upbringings. There was always a story to be had, and those who didn’t say anything usually had the worst ones. The only problem was that Sasha had no clue how or when he died. He had no visible scars, no difference in voice or eyes, he was just… some normal guy that happened to kill people occasionally. You wouldn’t look at him and think about all the blood he had on his hands. Maybe that was the point.

There was more to him. There had to be, and it was looking like Sasha was going to be able to ask. She saw him finally, shrouded in the brush like it was a blanket, staring down intently at Phoenix Drop.  _ Typical.  _

“Vylad,” she greeted nonchalantly, taking her spot a few feet away leant up against a tree. “Gene wanted me to talk to you.”

Vylad sighed. “About?”

Sasha paused, studying his face (whatever wasn’t covered by the green scarf and hood he wore like armor) for a moment. He looked… tired. More tired than she had seen him last. “...Are you alright?”

“I know for a fact that isn’t what Gene wants.”

“Of course not, I’m asking.”

“Doesn’t matter. Now, what have I done wrong this time?” He asked, enough humor behind his words to make Sasha want to smile. 

“He thinks you’re acting weird, and if you ask me, he isn’t wrong,” Sasha said, raising an eyebrow at him. “What’s so interesting about Phoenix Drop, Vylad?”

He shrugged, eyes turning back to the rooftops. “Looking for something to be interested in.”

“That’s not how we operate. You know this.”

“I’m aware.”

Sasha sighed. For a brief moment, she wanted to be mad at him again. “...Gene’s gonna do something stupid if you don’t stop.”

“Par for the course, I guess,” Vylad responded. “But, ah, you’re right. As usual, huh?”

Sasha stared at him. “...Vylad, is something wrong?”

“No.”

“You always say that.”

“It’s always the truth.”

She sighed. “You’re worse than Gene sometimes, you know that?”

He turned back to look at her, and she liked to think he was smiling. “Where do you think I got it from?”

She laughed a little at that. “...Okay, whatever. Just… don’t make Gene kill someone.”

He hummed in response, eyes trailing back to the village. “See you.”

Sasha started the walk back to Gene’s hideout, deflating the second she was out of sight. She couldn’t blame him for not communicating-- it’s not like they were friends, of course. None of them were. 

The potion was beginning to wear off. She stepped into Gene’s hideout. Gene was slumped over, snoring quietly against Sasha’s brewing stand. Her potion was over-brewed to hell and back (she would know, she’s been) but she was too tired to care. 

  
“Night, Gene,” Sasha murmured, walking over to her own little corner of the hideout.  _ Let’s hope nobody’s dead by tomorrow morning.  _


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for such a late chapter school has been kicking my ass and im still in the process of outlining/rewatching s2 so :,] but uhhh hope u like this one!!! leave a comment/kudos if u did it rlly helps me feel motivated to write! im gonna try and get an uploading schedule soon hopefully :] <3

Brendan seemed shocked when Sera had come up to him, asking him to help her build a house. He wanted to ask why, she could tell, but said yes anyway. They both knew she had no answers.

Brendan was good at what he did-- probably had to be, seeing as he was the only competent builder/farmer in Phoenix Drop. They gathered up materials and started working that morning, laying down foundations at the top of a hill. 

Sera couldn’t build a house, but Brendan was patient in helping her figure out how. She was only half certain he knew what he was doing himself; he got distracted easily, fingers going red with how often he was hitting them instead of nails. He was the best company to be had, though.

“I’m glad you like Phoenix Drop,” Brendan called from the other end of the foundation. “This means you’re staying around, right?”

“Yep. And I don’t think Emmalyn likes having a roommate.”  _ Or a wolf.  _

Brendan nodded, chuckling. “Yeah, she’s not the most sociable!”

They worked for a moment more before Sera finally spoke again: “Did you think I wanted to leave?”

Brendan hummed. “...Well, people usually don’t stay. I mean, from what you’ve said, you have much better places to be! A magic user in such a little place like Phoenix Drop, staying even though we’re now without a lord, I just… feels flattering, in a way.”

“Magic user?”

“You can’t look me in the eye and tell me that what you did in that field last week wasn’t magic. Even I can recognize that sort of thing.” He paused. “Unless you didn’t want people knowing..? Irene above, I’m so sorry-”

“No, it- it’s fine, I just…”  _ thought you forgot about it? Didn’t realize there was a term for it in the first place?  _ “I usually keep it secret, yes, but… I’m fine with you knowing.”  _ Good enough. _

He gasped, abandoning the hammer to put his hands on his cheeks. “ _ Really?  _ Oh, good. I was curious! What’s it like, being a magic user?”

Sera had two options, as it tended to be with any question thrown her way-- lie or stay quiet. Telling the truth was another, but she couldn’t seem to make herself do it.  She had tried a few times before, reaching for whoever was close enough just so she could get it off her shoulders, but she always froze up before any words came out.

Nevertheless, she was getting sick of lying.

She shrugged. “Not that different from not being a magic user, I assume,” she opted to say. 

“Huh. I’ve never really thought about it-- you’re the first magic user I’ve ever met.” 

Sera chuckled a bit at that. “I’m sorry to be such a horrible example.”

“What makes you say that?”

She shrugged. “I’m… not that skilled.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” He responded. “Plus, nobody can make you feel too bad about it. If you grew up in a small town too, then it must have been tough to find other magic users to teach you.” He paused. “That’s how it works, right?”

She nodded noncommittally. “...Something like that, yeah.”

“Sorry for bringing it up! I know you don’t like talking about where you came from.” He smiled apologetically, and Sera couldn’t feel more relieved. “Say, how have you and Garroth been getting along? He’s a little antisocial, but you seem like the type to get him out of his shell a little.”

“I was meaning to ask..” Sera started gingerly, “What does Garroth look like?”  _ I need to know. I need to put a face to the feeling. _

Brendan obviously wasn’t expecting the question, nearly hitting himself with his hammer. “...Well, I’d love to help, but I don’t know myself. Why do you ask?”

She ignored the last question. “Does anybody know?”

“Zenix, I think? But Garroth isn’t exactly the most open person; he’s anonymous for a reason, and whatever it is, it has to be bad.” Brendan shifted uncomfortably. “I worry about him sometimes, you know? I don’t want to pry, but I’m really curious, too.”

_ Huh. Shit.  _ She stared at the hammer in her hand.  _ What are you hiding, Garroth?  _ Then, more hopefully,  _...Are you like me? _

“Are you and Garroth close?” She asked finally.

He shrugged. “Not really, no. Mostly, I hear about him from Zenix.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Worst person to share a secret with. But, uh, he really trusts Garroth, so he hasn’t told me anything… soul-shattering, I guess. He mostly just complains about Dale.”

Sera hummed in response. “You have a full town of mysteries, huh?”

He laughed. “I suppose! Keeps things interesting.”

_ I wish I could say the same.  _ “...Hey, do you want to take a break? We’ve been working pretty hard.”

Brendan surveyed the work around them, running a hand through his hair. “You’re right! We deserve a break. I’ll clean up here and meet you down at the plaza, yeah?”

Sera nodded. “See you then.” She gave him one final wave and began the trek down the hill. 

She wasn’t tired. Brendan probably wasn’t either, they both knew that he could work all day and come back the next morning with the same motivation he started with. Her mind was buzzing though, frustrated and searching for answers she couldn’t reach as always. 

_ Focus on the positives.  _ Kiki was supposed to have her hamster pen set up by now. Dale might have fallen into the well again, which wasn’t really a positive, but Molly would give Sera baked goods in reward (and apology) for helping him out. Donna was always around in the plaza, that would make Sera feel better. 

She and Brendan had been working all day, so she had close to no idea about the happenings in the village. A small part of her hoped that Zenix had been found, but she knew that it would be hard  _ not  _ to be aware of Zenix’s presence. Nevertheless, she had a bad feeling about it all.

It was in Zenix’s nature to be worrying, she supposed. So reckless, barrelling into danger, shielded by Garroth. He wasn’t dangerous, not really, just… a kid. A kid put in a job where his life could be taken at any second. He and all the other guards teetered at the edge of a cliff. Some chose to back up, others trying to lay down foundation to make it safer, but Zenix? Zenix danced. 

In a way, Sera thought, he reveled in the danger. She reminisced on what Garroth had once said, how his past was a mystery. How he had shown up, bloodied and broken, and then was taken under Garroth’s wing and turned into the guard Sera now knew. He was confident, too confident, because he had experienced something horrible and came back swinging. Too cocky for his own good. 

He had been broken before, mended with Garroth’s help. She could only worry how he was going to heal now, both physically and mentally. 

Regardless. The plaza was in sights, carrying all the usual suspects-- Kiki, Donna, Paul. The only strange things about the scene were that Visher was still nowhere to be found, and Garroth was there, talking to Paul.

“Garroth, we’re going to need to leave today,” Paul said, stacking items into a cart. “I can’t stay in a lordless town for long. You know this.”

Garroth gave a firm nod, hands clenched into fists. “I know, Paul. When will you head out?”

He shrugged. “Whenever Visher comes back.”

“...And where is Visher?”

“That’s his business,” Paul responded simply. “Anything else I can help you with?”

Garroth shook his head. “Thank you. Good luck on your trip.”

Paul gave a noncommittal noise in response, now focused on taking down his cart. Garroth sighed, walking over to Sera.

“Afternoon, m’lady,” he said. “I saw you and Brendan working on something on the hill. Taking a break, I assume?”

“Mhm. We’re building a house for me to live in. Trying, at least.” She laughed a bit, suddenly feeling embarrassed about it all. “I’ve been up there all day, anything new in town?”

“Paul and Visher are planning to leave,” he said with a sigh. “It’s… to be expected, but still. We don’t have much of a food source outside of merchants, and…” he stopped. “Ah, apologies. I shouldn’t be concerning you with these affairs.”

“No, continue,” Sera said. A worried curiosity made her eyebrows cinch.

Garroth paused for a moment, finally conceding. “Well, merchants don’t usually want to be in a town without a lord. It will be much harder now to get enough food for everyone. Nothing you should worry about, though!” 

Sera thought on this for a moment, nodding slowly. “Why don’t you become lord? I’m certain you’re more than qualified-”

“No,” he said quickly. “Er… I prefer serving.”

Sera raised an eyebrow, but dropped it, making a mental note to add it to her notes on Garroth. Her eyes scanned the plaza, finally falling on Kiki and her hamsters. “Have you gotten a hamster yet?”

“I’ll manage without.”

She chuckled, beckoning him to walk over with her. Kiki waved at them excitedly, but Sera was paying more attention to the little grey hamster poking its head out of her apron pocket. 

Sera gasped, quickly walking over to coo over the hamster. It had a green collar (really just a knotted strip of fabric) and was busy nibbling at the hem of Kiki’s apron pocket, but she didn’t seem to mind. There were already plenty of patches littering its fabric, one more surely wouldn’t be a problem.

“Hi guys!” Kiki chirped excitedly. “Here to see the hamsters?”

“Of course!” Sera said, petting the grey hamster as gently as she could. “He’s adorable!”

“This is Cuddlezilla, Brendan’s hamster! He’s usually really busy, so I take care of him most of the time.” She scratched under his chin. “Come on into the pen! Please be gentle.”

Garroth stayed outside, standing at attention as always. Sera, however, wasn’t about to pass up the chance to play with cute little animals, so she knelt down (carefully!) a little ways away from where the hamsters were all clustered together, eating and playing amongst themselves without a care in the world.

A few flocked towards her soon after that, cautiously sniffing and climbing onto her knees. She had never felt so ecstatic. One particular hamster, an orange one with a cleft ear, seemed just as happy as she was. This one, she decided when it willingly climbed into her hands and licked her cheek, was her favorite.

“Aw, he likes you!” Kiki said, leaning over the fencing to watch. A few hamsters flocked to her as well, which she supplied with little scratches and pets without batting an eye. “That one is named Sean. He’s not usually this friendly!”

Sera grinned at her excitedly. “Really?”

She was almost too distracted to notice Brendan walk over. He smiled, greeting them casually and taking Cuddlezilla from Kiki. Garroth gave him a nod. Sera waved, gesturing excitedly to Sean, now curled up in her lap.

“They’re cute, aren’t they?” Brendan said, placing Cuddlezilla on his shoulder. “Not Cudz over here, though. He’s a manly man, just like his owner.”

“You calling him Cudz immediately disproves your point,” Kiki said wryly.

Brendan punched her playfully in the shoulder, giving a shoddy retort, but Sera had stopped listening. Their banter settled into the back of her head as she looked around the plaza. Garroth was nowhere to be seen-- he probably left when they began talking. More importantly, though, Visher was at his cart, clothes shredded, Donna hovering around. Sera abandoned the hamster, slipping past Brendan and Kiki.

Physically, Visher seemed fine, even with the rips in his clothes. However, the bags under his eyes were hard not to notice, the tone of his voice too tired and too weak for him to be at his best.

“Donna, you don’t need to watch over me,” Visher said exasperatedly, eyes brightening when he saw Sera walking up. “Ah, Sera! How have you been?”

“I should be asking you that,” Sera responded. “I haven’t seen you in three days.”

Visher laughed, the sound slightly bitter. “I’ve been great. Never better.”

Donna gave him a worried look. “Paul knows you’re back?”

He nodded. “We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

Sera didn’t want to pry-- it was unlikely either of them would tell her anything anyway and it wasn’t her business to begin with, but she couldn’t help feeling curious. Worried. Was he hurt? Tired, sure, but Donna wasn’t one to worry like this. 

Sera looked at Donna. She returned the look, giving a small, helpless shrug. Visher continued putting away his things.

The silence hanging around them was not one Sera enjoyed. Finally, she decided to leave, wishing Visher the best. Donna seemed almost relieved as she walked off, delving deep into worried discussion with Visher as soon as she was out of earshot.

It was irritating that they didn’t want to tell her. Understandable, of course, but irritating nonetheless. She kicked a rock, sighing.  _ Always out of the loop, even on my own affairs. _

She decided to first stop at the Atrium- she had left Thorgi inside that morning, and she didn’t want Emmalyn to have too horrible a day. 

“Afternoon,” Sera said after a quick knock at the door. Thorgi immediately came up to her, excitedly jumping up to greet her. She scratched behind his ears, mood lightening immediately. “Was he too much trouble?”

“Take a guess,” Emmalyn responded, setting down her pen and sighing. “I’ve been on the same page for ten minutes.”

She chuckled. “Figured. Sorry.”

Emmalyn shrugged. “Just take him out with you next time.”

Sera was almost surprised to see how civil she was. Emmalyn in a good mood was always hard to come by, so she gave a quick thank you and left as to not disturb her further. Thorgi was excited as always, running circles around her as they walked from the Atrium. He was making a quick recovery it seemed, only a few days of love and food scraps acting like magic to heal him right up.

She found herself walking to the edge of the village. The forest looked pretty as ever, the daunting, mysterious foliage a comfort and a curse all the same. It made sense, she supposed, her conflicting feelings surrounding it. With the forest came leads to who she used to be-- a masked man, her awakening place… but the confusion was more prevalent because of it. 

That wasn’t to say she hadn’t made great progress since then-- her page of things to investigate had grown into a journal bought from Visher. She wrote entries, snippets of her new life in Phoenix Drop and everything that happened in it. All she knew was in it, from the strange dream she had upon waking up to Garroth and his aching familiarity. She had made great strides in the weeks or so since her appearance. 

She didn’t tell anyone about the journal, of course, no matter how much she wanted to. She carried it everywhere though-- if there was one way to help piece her past together (and keep the present in a written memory as to not lose it again), this was it. Nobody needed to know.

Thorgi nudged her in the calf, bringing her back to reality. She blinked, giving him a reassuring pat on the head before finally walking out, him trailing close behind.

It had rained last night, the mud just now beginning to dry out. Sera inwardly groaned about having to clean Thorgi later, but all quality time was good quality time-- that’s what Donna said, at least. He seemed to be having an amazing time anyway, sniffing at anything and everything, tail wagging with excitement. 

They stopped at some point, sitting to enjoy the sunlight coming through the trees. Thorgi was biting at a butterfly, and that was when Sera realized that she liked it here. 

She loved the friends she had made, enjoyed the Atrium and the joking comments Donna would whisper to her. She loved Molly’s cooking, Thorgi, hell, even Emmalyn deserved praise for putting up with her shit. Phoenix Drop was rundown, now lordless, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to leave, and Sera didn’t want to have to lie to herself too. 

Maybe where she used to live was better. Maybe she had a better life with a fancy house, maybe she was famous or well respected, but that was hard to think about with the forests of Phoenix Drop around her, a puppy (for Irene’s sake) at her feet. She had friends, goddamnit. Leaving wasn’t an option anymore, and she didn’t want it to be.

What was it that Garroth had said a few days after they met? The past is in the past. It doesn’t matter anymore. Sera was here now, breathing in the fresh air, hands carding through thick wolf fur. What was now was Phoenix Drop, not whatever the past had to offer, and she was happy with this. Content to enjoy her time there, albeit irritated by the lack of knowledge.

She smiled, scratching Thorgi behind the ears, getting to her feet. Today was a good day.

Flowers dotted the forest floor that she graciously took, weaving the blossoms among her hair, braided how Donna showed her. The most abundant kinds were small, five-petaled and blue. They were gorgeous, the color matching the afternoon sky, its very own sun in the middle. She briefly mused on if Emmalyn would know what it was called, when she heard a twig snap behind her.

Thorgi was ahead, it couldn’t have been him. She whipped around, eyes wide, trying to make herself look intimidating.

A small part of her hoped it was the masked man standing behind her, but who she locked eyes with was much better.

“Zenix?” She asked incredulously. He was there in front of her, a giant smile on his face. 

“Hi, Sera.” 

“Where have you been?” She asked incredulously, immediately walking over to see if he had any injuries. His splint was gone. “How’s your arm?”

“Much better, I heal fast.” He grinned. “Just… had to take some time to myself.”

Sera raised an eyebrow, nodding slowly anyway. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay. We should get Garroth,” she said, beckoning him to follow. 

They began walking back to Phoenix Drop, Sera glancing back every few minutes to see if he was still following and that he was really okay. He looked fine. Better, even, smiling and using his bad arm like it hadn’t been hurt in the first place. Sera couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different, however. He stood a little too tall, the usual fiery vigor in his eyes replaced with something calmer, more confident. 

_ Where did you go? _

Finally they reached the edge of the village. Thorgi stayed close at Sera’s side, eyeing Zenix with a sense of caution. She smiled a little at that, scratching him reassuringly.  _ Don’t worry, Zenix couldn’t hurt a fly.  _ Thorgi did not seem convinced. 

“Garroth might be at the tower right now,” Sera said. She was unsure— after he left the plaza, he could’ve gone anywhere. “Our best bet is to ask someone, I think.”

They walked to the plaza first, getting immediately bombarded by Brendan’s hugs and questions directed at Zenix. Sera laughed, then dissolved into more laughter at Zenix’s half smushed dirty look. He seemed happy, though, relieved to see another friend. 

“I missed you so much!” Brendan said, wiping away a tear. “Have you seen Garroth yet? He’s gonna give you hell for being gone so long.”

“Ugh. Yeah. I’m gonna be on tower cleaning duty for a  _ month _ ,” he groaned. “Probably gonna lecture me on being safer or giving more notice when I’m going out,” he said, putting on a horrible, mock version of Garroth’s voice, “ _ Oh Zenix, you fool, how could you leave in such a time of social unrest? Gods forfend! _ ”

Brendan laughed. “He doesn’t sound like that!”

“It’s only a little bit accurate,” a voice piped up from near the well. The group turned around to see Garroth standing there, arms folded. There was a smile in his voice. 

“Garroth! Sorry, sir-“ Zenix began, being cut off by a tight hug. 

“We missed you,” Garroth said gently. “I thought you’d left, not wanting to return.”

Zenix’s features were pained. “I always come back, Garroth.”

“I know. I’m glad you do.” Garroth finally let go, giving him a comforting pat on the shoulder. “I do expect you’ll report everything about your trip after cleaning the guard’s quarters tomorrow morning.”

Zenix groaned loudly. “God fucking--”

“Language.”

He settled for a sour look. Sera suppressed another laugh.

“We will see you all later.” Garroth gave them a polite nod, taking Zenix by the arm and dragging him in the direction of the guard tower.

Brendan grinned. “Savor the last few minutes of silence. Phoenix Drop is gonna get real loud again.” He and Sera both laughed, Brendan fondly shaking his head. “...It’s really good to have him back.”

Sera smiled softly. “Yeah. It really is.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new chapter hope u like it :]]] *thru tears* zenix brendan friendship  
> pls kudos/comment if u enjoyed!! its a big motivator :D <3

The village was unbearably quiet after the merchants left. Sera was spending most of her time then working on her house with Brendan anyway, but when they got a chance for a break, the streets were empty. Kiki was still around of course, but she was usually alone in the plaza. Not that she minded-- the hamsters were very time consuming.

There were a few days of silent work before Garroth came around one morning announcing that a new merchant was going to show up that afternoon. By the look on Brendan’s face, Sera could tell this was important.

“A new merchant,” Brendan echoed. “Thank Irene.”

Sera raised an eyebrow, swinging the door they had just installed back and forth to make sure it didn’t squeak. “What about Paul and Visher?”

Brendan looked even more confused than she felt. “They left? Probably won’t be coming back anytime soon, a village without a lord isn’t good for much business. I’m surprised bandits haven’t caught wind of it yet-- we’re unbelievably lucky.”

Sera nodded slowly. “So... a lord is important for outside trade. We can’t grow much on the land around us, so we need merchants to come in. Makes sense.”

“Your home probably had better farming situations,” Brendan said. “We live off of the merchants around here.”

She fiddled with the doorknob, humming in response.  _ Better farming situations… that might narrow it down once I get hold of a map. _

“Well, anyway. Want to head to the plaza? I want to be there when the new merchant arrives.” Brendan grinned excitedly, setting down his tools. “I’d suggest we get Zenix on the way, but he’s probably busy helping Garroth make everything look nice.”  _ A monumental task. _

The pair walked down, and sure enough Zenix was there, a broom being carelessly twisted in his hands while he stared off into space. Brendan came over, slipping the broom out of his hands to lightly hit him on the head with it. Zenix zoned back in, punching him in the shoulder and shouting obscenities despite the grin on his face.

“Hi Zenix!” Sera called from the other side of the plaza. 

Zenix waved with the hand not currently trying to take back the broom Brendan was holding above his head. “Sera, tell Brendan to give me the broom back!” He yelled in response, scowling at Brendan’s shit-eating grin.

“Pay no mind to me, Sera,” Brendan said as she walked over. “Just stretchin’.” He raised his arm a little higher, laughing at Zenix’s protests.

Sera snatched the broom from his hand, returning it to Zenix, who immediately used it to whack Brendan in the legs. Brendan toppled over, grabbing Zenix so they both crashed onto the cobble. Sera stepped back, cackling as Zenix fumed. 

“I hate both of you,” he said, using a cart to steady himself as he stood. 

“Love you too!” Brendan dusted off his pants, getting to his feet with a cheery grin. 

“We’ve come to help with the cleaning,” Sera explained. “There’s a new merchant coming today, correct?”

Zenix nodded, propping the broom on his shoulder. “Garroth should be coming back soon to let us know when he’ll arrive. You can stick around if you want-- might be wise to have some people around, just to make the place look less… trashy.”

Sera nodded seriously. “I’m very good at standing around.”

Brendan laughed, patting her on the back. “Hell yeah you are! Don’t worry, Zenix. We’re the perfect people for the job.”

Zenix narrowed his eyes but shrugged anyway. “Just try to be normal. This is really important to Garroth.”

She nodded. “Do we know anything about the merchant?”

“Not really. Just that he has lower standards than Paul and Visher,” Zenix said, stabbing at the air with the end of his broom as if it were a sword. “He sells food.”

Brendan hummed in approval. “When will he be here?”

“...Right now, apparently.”

Brendan and Sera turned around to see Garroth leading a blond man along, gesticulating as if he were explaining something. The man was short, looking generally disinterested with everything around him. His hair was tied in a messy ponytail. They were almost at the plaza.

Brendan and Sera took their places sitting on crates, Zenix vigorously sweeping. 

“What are we supposed to be doing?” Sera whispered.

“I don’t know!” Brendan hissed back. “What does acting normal even entail? Zenix!”

Zenix shushed them with a warning glare, dropping the broom behind a cart and standing at attention as Garroth and the merchant walked in. He nodded at Garroth, back straightening as Garroth nodded back.

“...And this is our plaza,” Garroth said. “Along with some of our villagers. Hello, Zenix.”

“Afternoon, sir!”

The merchant nodded slowly, eyeing Zenix. “You don’t look like you know what you’re doing,” he said.

Zenix bristled, doing a surprisingly good job at holding his tongue. The merchant continued scanning the plaza, raising an eyebrow when his eyes fell on Brendan and Sera, who were sitting up too straight and looking oddly offended by his tone towards Zenix.

Sera stood, walking over, Brendan trailing after. She walked up to the merchant, raising her hand to shake. “My name is Seraphaura. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Logan. Pleasure.” He shook her hand, shoving his hand back into his pocket right after. “Where is your lord?” He asked, turning back to Garroth. “I would like to meet them.”

Garroth was silent for a second, blankly searching for anything to say. He stammered for a moment, Logan’s expression growing more and more displeased by the second.  _ “This is really important to Garroth.” _

Sera inhaled sharply, and after praying to Irene that it would work, she cut off Garroth’s half-assed excuse: “You’re looking at her.”

Zenix and Brendan were most likely giving her mutual stares of shock. She felt about the same. Logan stared at her, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re the lord,” he repeated.

“Yes,” Sera said, glancing at Garroth. “I am the lord of Phoenix Drop.”  _ Irene, don’t let this backfire. _

He hummed. “Your town looks horrible.”

“I was only appointed recently.”  _ This is the worst thing I have ever done. Garroth is never going to speak to me ever again.  _ “W-with your help, I’m sure we can change that, though,” she added.

“...What’s goin’ on over here?” Sera yelped, shocked by Donna’s voice behind her. She whipped around, seeing her leaning against the well with a raised eyebrow. 

“Donna! Hello,” Garroth said. “Lord Seraphaura and I were just showing the town’s new merchant, Logan, around.”

“Lord?” She chuckled a little, stopping as she saw the wide eyes of Brendan and Zenix. “...Ah! Yes, of course, Ser- M’lady,” she said, giving them all a look meaning  _ you best be telling me the context later.  _ “Carry on.” She gave the group a large thumbs up. 

“Donna, was it?” Logan said, walking over. He looked vaguely starstruck. “My name is Logan. I’m the new merchant.”

“So you’re staying?” Garroth asked hopefully.

Logan considered for a moment, finally shrugging. “Sure. I’m leaving if you can’t get your town in order, though,” he said, pointing at Sera. She nodded seriously. Logan walked past Donna, placing a hand on a booth. “I’ll set up here. Give me a day.”

Garroth’s shoulders slumped with relief. “I cannot express how much this will help--”

“Save it,” Logan said breezily. “Thank me once your town isn’t hanging on by a thread. Now, please leave me to begin setting up.”

“Zenix-- care to help him?” Garroth said in a way that wasn’t really a question more than an order. Zenix scowled, nodding anyway. As the pair began working, Garroth turned to Sera. “A moment,  _ M’lady _ ?”

Sera nodded, plastering on a nervous smile. “Of course, Garroth.”

The two (plus Brendan and Donna, trailing behind to whisper amongst themselves) walked out of earshot. Garroth sighed quietly, glancing over at where Zenix was picking up spilled apples back in the plaza.

“None of that went… optimally,” he admitted calmly. “Why did you say you were the lord, Seraphaura?”

“Because Brendan said that merchants liked lords,” she said quickly. “And Zenix said this was important to you. To the village.” She paused, wringing her hands. “...I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No going back now,” Garroth simply responded. “My only worry are the consequences of this. You’re going to have to start acting as the lord of Phoenix Drop.”

Sera was silent for a moment, lips pursed.  _ There is no way this can go well. _ “I can do that.” 

Garroth paused as well. He seemed apprehensive. “...I trust you, then. Know you have my sword at your side.” It was said quietly, kinder than his usual, stoic tone.

For a moment, all Sera could do was smile gently at him, a strange feeling of deja vu tugging at her senses. This was kinder than other familiarities, though-- a comfort.

She didn’t get the chance to respond due to Brendan and Donna walking over. They had twin expressions of shock and admiration, eyeing Sera carefully.

“How did any of that work?” Brendan asked. 

“Wish I could tell you,” Sera responded, the weight of the situation finally starting to dawn upon her. She was now effectively the lord of this town. This town, the one she had only been living in for a few weeks, the one she’d spent all her time making fun of. 

“I’m not exactly one to talk, but none of this seems very smart,” Donna pointed out. 

“It’s a temporary solution,” Sera said. “We’ll find someone better soon, I’m sure of it.”  _ I sure as hell hope we will, at least. _

Garroth nodded. “This is a good thing, anyway. Having a lord puts Phoenix Drop in a better position than it previously was. We can work with this.”

“See?” Sera said, a lopsided grin on her face. “Already helping the village.”

“You’re a natural!” Brendan quipped back, smiling. “Although, that really isn’t far from the truth. You’ve helped the village more than Lord Malik ever wanted to.” He chuckled a little, the sound bitter despite his kind eyes.

Donna hummed in response. “That  _ is  _ true… maybe this won’t be too bad.”

“We can all hope,” Garroth responded tiredly. Sera gave him an apologetic smile. 

“Well!” She said, dusting off her dress. “Brendan, shall we get back to work?”

“Of course, M’lady!” He responded, giving a low bow, dissolving into laughter halfway through. Donna rolled her eyes, smiling anyway. Garroth gave them a firm nod. Sera gave him a quick wave as she and Brendan walked up to the house. 

Work was good. Work could get her mind off of this. If she kept steady, everything would be fine. 

Right?

\---

Gene and Sasha hadn’t been around in a few days, which left Vylad with more than enough free time to watch over Phoenix Drop. Sure, whatever they were up to (Sasha had described it only as ‘something big’, much to Vylad’s chagrin) would end up being more trouble than it was worth, but he could clean up their mess. He always did. 

Vylad had stolen a book from the local library (not really a library, more of a bedroom) on child care in the meantime, learning more how to take care of Levin. He would have to pass him off to someone soon- it would be harder to hide him when Sasha and Gene returned. 

Nevertheless, Vylad mostly used spare potions from Sasha’s hideout to keep the baby alive. If worse came to worst, he had a sleeping potion to keep it under a slumber if he had to go out for a long period of time. That was a last resort, though— he usually wasn’t wanted on missions anyway. 

Something had changed in Phoenix Drop in those past few days. He knew what had happened-- a new knight’s awakening was never something he overlooked, he just needed to figure out who it was. There were plenty of suspects, none of which he knew well enough to prove or disprove the honor of. Gene wasn’t there, though. Something to celebrate.

Vylad had spent a few nights wandering around the city. Sneaking around wasn’t hard, the guards on the night shift didn’t really seem like they wanted to be there half of the time. From what he had seen, the fresh energy mainly coalesced around the home dedicated to the aforementioned local militia, which left him with several options.

First was the old man. He didn’t look like much of a threat, wielding a bottle more often than a sword. He had a family, a wife and son, also in the guard. He was kind though, gentle to those around him. Funny, but only when he wasn’t trying to be so. He was the least likely to be the knight.

Next was his son, a young boy recently put in the guard by what Vylad could tell. He was all baby-faced and confident in himself. He hadn’t experienced real fear yet. He loved his parents and they loved him, something Vylad envied only a little bit. He was low on the list of possible suspects.

Then came the one with the helmet. Vylad was most curious about this man. He stood tall, wielding his weapon with more experience and elegance than the others combined. He knew what he was doing. The others were much more comfortable in Phoenix Drop, but even in the quietest of days he was on his guard. Every time Vylad saw him he was upright, ready for anything. Maybe he was nervous, hiding from something. It was all too hard to tell.

The one with the helmet had an apprentice. This was the final guard, only a little older than the old man’s son, from what Vylad could tell. He broke his arm recently, disappearing and coming back with it healed. He was most likely resting up at their home, however. Could have been a coincidence. He had no family to speak of other than the one teaching him, possibly a sibling based on how they acted so protective of one another. Seeing them together always caused a small pang of sadness deep in Vylad’s chest. He strongly preferred watching over the girl from the staff and the merchant with her hamsters. 

Regardless, the helm-clad one and his apprentice were most suspicious. The helm-clad was top of his list, mostly because he piqued his interest the most. He was hard to follow, however, so Vylad almost always settled for his apprentice. 

The apprentice had a particular cast of friends he spent his time around. This included a tall, burly farmer who smiled like the sun, the girl from the staff, and the helm-clad man. He was often found training (poorly) or doing chores and complaining loudly. 

The girl from the staff recently acquired a dog. The apprentice appreciated it greatly despite his apparent timidness of the thing. Vylad sympathized with the sentiment-- it was a very rowdy creature.

Currently, he and the farmer were at Malik’s home, gutting whatever was left from the charred frame that remained. It was slowly getting darker, twilight hanging in the sky. Vylad disliked the familiarity of the scene.

He could feel it stronger now, a tired, slow dread in the back of his throat mixing with the realization that the apprentice was the knight. He was not good at hiding himself. Horrible, even, but it was all to be expected-- he looked young. Too young to be one of them.  _ It wasn’t your fault.  _ He returned to attention as the pair began to talk.

“I hate this,” The apprentice proclaimed, kicking the rubble for emphasis. 

“At least you get to do it with the best farmer in Phoenix Drop!” The other puffed out his chest, brandishing his hammer. “And carpenter. And handsome bachelor.” 

The apprentice rolled his eyes with almost the same amount of drama Gene always displayed. “You are  _ certainly  _ not the most handsome bachelor in Phoenix Drop.”

“Aha! But you agree on the other two!”

“You’re the only of either,” he pointed out dryly. “Meaning that you’re also the worst of both.” 

The farmer stared at him, mock-dejected. He silently began taking down the ruins.

After a beat of silence, the apprentice sighed loudly. “Oh my Irene. You’re insufferable sometimes, you know that? I didn’t mean it. That good enough for you, you big baby?”

“Yes!” He chirped in response, and with one final  _ whack  _ the remains of the wall in front of him fell, shattering into a million little pieces all over the floor. He continued on to the next section, the apprentice’s wide eyes following him.

“Irene above, you’re good at this.”

“What it takes to be the best carpenter in Phoenix Drop,” the farmer responded, giving him a wink. “You gotta know where to hit exactly-- the right movements can make the whole thing crumble.”

The apprentice paused, studying the wall. “...I don’t think I’m gonna be able to do that.”

The farmer laughed, patting him on the back. “Takes practice! I’ve got an unfair advantage, I’ve been helping Sera build herself a house these past few days.” He groaned, stretching. “Irene, it’s taking forever. She has no idea what she’s doing, hah. She’s willing to learn, though, and she’s good company, so it’s not all bad.”  _ Sera… that’s her name, then.  _

“Really?” The apprentice responded, meticulously hacking away at the wall. “I didn’t think she’d be staying for long.”

“Me neither,” the farmer admitted. “I’m glad she is, though. Getting to know her is great. Well, as close as you can to getting to know her,” he said dryly, “she’s… not very open. I don’t blame her, of course, but…”

The apprentice nodded. “Anything interesting?”

“Nothing I can tell you,” the farmer said. “The whole village would know in two minutes, then she’d never talk to me again.That wouldn’t be great, especially considering her new position these days.”  _ New position? _

He scowled. “You’re no fun, you know that?”

“More fun than you!”

“Untrue,” he responded irritably. He paused, twisting the hammer in his hands idly. “How’s everyone else reacting to it? The lord thing, I mean.”

The farmer shrugged. “Happy that the place won’t get ransacked by bandits. Everyone likes her well enough-- not too many complaints.”

“What do  _ you  _ think about it?” 

“I’m a little worried,” he responded, laughing nervously. “I mean, nobody will be worse than Malik, but…” 

“Yeah.” The apprentice responded, quieter now. 

The farmer then unceremoniously dropped his hammer on his foot, exclaiming a string of curses as he bent over to pick it back up. 

Something changed in the apprentice’s eye, then. Something Vylad was all too familiar with. His features shifted ever so slightly, growing cold and far-off. Vylad could remember-- the losing battle, the feelings of temptation when he first became a knight. He never was near anybody long enough to act on it, though. The apprentice was not so lucky. The apprentice now had an opening, and a hammer now yielded like a sword. 

Vylad needed to act. His hands were already curled around his bow and arrow on instinct, aiming right past the pair.  _ Not a kill,  _ he reminded himself, drawing the string to his cheek,  _ just a distraction. _

The apprentice gripped the hammer in his hands, raising it above him when the arrow whizzed past. His head whipped to the treeline, confusion and fear swirling around in his gaze. He dropped the hammer as if it were on fire.

The farmer shot up, startled by the sudden noise. The apprentice was desperately searching the treeline, expression slowly unravelling. 

“...Zenix? What was that?” The farmer asked, noticeably afraid as his eyes landed on the arrow in the wall behind them. “Zenix??”

_ Zenix. A name to the knight. _

“I don’t…” Zenix trailed off, locking eyes with Vylad. His eyes widened. “Brendan, there’s- there’s someone up there,” he said, much quieter. 

Vylad stared back into his eyes and saw the horrified kid staring back at him. It was a familiar sight, one he knew well. Too well. He tore his eyes away, though-- couldn’t afford to get distracted. He loaded up another arrow. 

Zenix gave to the chase, hammer in hand, telling the farmer to stay behind him. His voice faded as Vylad ran off, glancing back at one point to see the apprentice barrelling through the trees after him, the farmer trailing close behind. 

If Vylad’s inner map was correct (it always was), they would reach a clearing soon. Sure enough, he bursted through the treeline, slipping behind some bushes and watching as the pair stumbled in after him. The farmer gasped for breath. Zenix seemed barely fazed, still searching the treeline for any sign of movement.

“Damn it!” Zenix yelled. “I think we lost them.”

“Who was that? Why would they do that?” The farmer asked in between breaths. “We- we were just working.”

Zenix nodded once, jaw clenched as he continued to scan the foliage.

“It’s fine, Zenix. We can head back to town and ask the other guards to patrol around tomorrow.”

“Are you okay?” Zenix asked, worriedly searching him over. “If that person hit you, I swear to Irene I’ll-”

“I’m fine, Zenix,” Brendan said, chuckling. “Just… scared.”

Vylad fidgeted with his final arrow. Zenix was not prepared to be a knight. He was a guard, Irene’s sake, it wouldn’t be long until he got someone killed. 

Vylad was no stranger to death. He was rather good at it, killing, even with the farmer right there. They couldn’t prove anything. Just… an accident. As always. He knocked another arrow.

...This one  _ hurt.  _

There was nothing to be done, though. Zenix couldn’t be a part of the village’s destruction. He couldn’t be the final hit to the wall, making it crumble into dust around them. The village couldn’t handle another knight.

Worse had happened. Worse  _ would  _ happen, it always did. Vylad screwed his eyes shut, whispering a small apology. He aimed. He fired.  _ I’m sorry. _

He was not quiet enough, though. Zenix heard, head tilting to the side, and in an instant Brendan was pushed in front of him. He screamed, of course, but Vylad could barely hear it as he ran in the opposite direction.

_ Fuck. _


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "That’s the way, she told herself. Do everything right and natural. Keep  
> things absolutely natural and there’ll be no need for any acting at all.  
> Therefore, when she entered the kitchen by the back door, she was  
> humming a little tune to herself and smiling.
> 
> 'Patrick!' she called. 'How are you, darling?'
> 
> She put the parcel down on the table and went through into the living room;  
> and when she saw him lying there on the floor with his legs doubled up and  
> one arm twisted back underneath his body, it really was rather a shock. All  
> the old love and longing for him welled up inside her, and she ran over to  
> him, knelt down beside him, and began to cry her heart out. It was easy.  
> No acting was necessary." -- lamb to the slaughter by roald dahl
> 
> remember to kudos n comment if u liked it <33 hopin 2 get chapters out faster im just swamped with work lately ;; have a good day :] <3

The town was quiet and empty as Sera took Thorgi on his morning walk. This wasn’t too out of the ordinary, but a little disconcerting to only see Logan in the plaza. Kiki was usually around in the mornings, harassing people with her rodents, but when Sera asked all Logan did was shrug.

Sera soon came to the realization that everyone was at the farmhouse-- a small building Brendan lived in, along with the farming tools and other assorted items such as seeds and surplus crop (which wasn’t usually something they needed room for, anyway). Donna was leaning against the door outside, a worried look on her face.

“Morning, Donna,” Sera greeted. She stood on her tip-toes to peek through the window, seeing many people clustered around. Nothing was actually discernible, but there was certainly something important going on. “What’s happening in there?”

For once, Donna had nothing to say. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. “Just… check for yourself,” she responded weakly.

Sera, now thoroughly concerned, opened the door and walked inside, only to be met with a violently crying Zenix and Brendan passed out on his bed, bandages around his chest. She dutifully left Thorgi outside the door, walking over to Zenix and Garroth. 

“I don’t- I don’t know what happened,” Zenix was saying, words tumbling over each other as sobs wracked his chest. 

“It’s okay, calm down,” Garroth placated, murmuring other calming phrases as Zenix scrubbed tears from his eyes.

Sera rushed to Brendan’s bedside. He was surrounded by Kiki and a doctor. The doctor held several potions that clinked together in his hands as he explained medical jargon calmly to Kiki. Brendan himself looked horrible. The off-white bandages had a large, red circle on the right side of his chest. His eyebrows were cinched in pain. Sera averted her eyes after a second, the blood making her feel sick.

She returned to Garroth, who was now sitting on the floor next to Zenix, a hand on his shoulder. Zenix was silent now, eyes searching the floor. She sat down next to them.

“Good morning, M’lady,” Garroth said quietly. 

“Morning Garroth, Zenix.”

“Morning,” Zenix mumbled in response.

“Are you holding up okay, Zenix?” Sera asked gently, giving Garroth a worried glance. 

“‘M fine.” Garroth quietly shook his head as he said this.

Sera paused, sighing quietly. “He’s probably going to be fine, don’t worry, okay?”

Zenix was silent for a moment. “...I’m going to go check on him.”

“Of course,” Garroth responded softly. 

Zenix gave a firm nod, getting to his feet. There was something in his eyes Sera couldn’t quite place. Grief? Guilt? Whatever it was, it was quickly gone, disappearing behind Kiki and the doctor.

Sera turned to Garroth. “...I didn’t know they were so close.”

Garroth nodded. “There aren’t a lot of people in town Zenix’s age. Brendan is a bit older, but they still bonded.” He paused, sighing quietly. “...The doctor says Brendan will be fine. He had an herb that he put in those potions. He’ll make a full recovery in about a week or so.”

“That’s wonderful. Do… do we know what happened?”

“Zenix was pretty distraught,” he said. “Told me a person shot at them from the trees and ended up hitting Brendan. He told me which way the person went-- I think he and I are going to go after them.”

“Great. When do we leave?” Sera asked. No way in hell she was letting this person get away with this.

“Apologies, but I think it would be wise if you were to stay here.”

“What? Why?”

Garroth glanced at the others, lowering his voice. “...The lord of Brightport went missing recently,” he murmured. “That, paired with Lord Malik’s sudden passing… It’s unsafe for a lord to be away from her village at a time like this.”

Sera hummed in response. “...I suppose you’re right.”

“Dale and Brian will be here to protect you and the village while Zenix and I are off. It should only be a day trip or so, just to investigate. We will set out tonight.”

“Will you guys be alright?” She asked. “If I shouldn’t be going out, what about you?”

He seemed a little caught off guard by her worry. “I… I’m a guard,” he said simply. “We’ll be fine. We’re trained for this.”

“I trust you,” she responded with a smile. “Be safe, okay?”

“We will try our best.” He stared at her (in her general direction, at least) before turning. “...Zenix and I should probably go prepare. 

“Of course. Have fun on your trip.” She smiled, him returning it with a firm nod. He walked over to Zenix’s side, placing a hand on his armorclad shoulder and muttering something to him. He nodded despite the worried strain against his face, and the two walked out. Zenix stared at Brendan for another moment, lingering in the doorframe. Finally, though, his tired features disappeared behind the door. 

Sera watched them through the window for a moment afterward. Donna and Thorgi greeted them. Garroth seemed to return the sentiment, but Zenix was silent.

Finally, she tore her eyes off of the guards, walking to Kiki and the doctor. Kiki sat next to Brendan’s bed, gently stroking Cuddlezilla. Sera sat down next to her. 

“How is he?” Sera asked quietly.

“The doctor said he’d be okay,” Kiki murmured in response. “It’ll be a while before the herb takes effect.”

Sera studied Brendan carefully. In the time she had been talking with Zenix and Garroth, they had given Brendan one of the potions and salves the doctor had left on the window sill. The bottles (except for one, now empty save for a few drops) were filled with a clear-ish, pink liquid. Next to these was a small container, most likely containing a lotion or balm.

“What does it all do?”

Kiki gave a noncommittal shrug. “...I’m not too entirely sure, but the potions are supposed to help.The doctor said there was an herb inside the potions and the salve that has healing properties. We made him drink the first potion-- in a few days we’ll make him drink the second, then the same will go for the third. The salve is to prevent scarring, I think? Help the wound seal up, and all that.” She wrung her hands. “I don’t know anything about this kind of thing. I’m sorry.”

She looked worried. Tired. Confused. Sera gave her a gentle smile, placing a hand on her shoulder. Kiki smiled back, the strain in her expression slowly disappearing.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Sera said.

“I hope you’re right.” Kiki glanced over at Brendan again, dragging a hand over her teary eyes.

“I’ll leave you two alone.” Sera gave her a final pat on the shoulder, getting back to her feet. “He’ll be fine. You’ll be fine, too.”

Kiki smiled. “Thank you, Lady Sera.”

Sera blinked in surprise at the honorific, remembering in quick succession that she was now the lord of this place.  _ What the hell does a lord do? _

She never truly met Lord Malik, so she thought about Garroth’s daily routine instead. He was competent, right? He usually visited everyone around the village, checking to see if there were any signs of danger abound. He trained with Zenix, told people what to do to improve the village, was overall mysterious and hardworking... 

_ Let’s start with visiting everyone in the village,  _ she decided.  _ Kiki, Brendan, Garroth, and Zenix are already down. I’m amazing at this. _

She gave Kiki her best wishes, stepping out of the farmhouse to bump straight into Donna and Thorgi, the latter excitedly pawing at her and nipping at her hands, the former thankfully standing back, seemingly relieved that the weight of dealing with Thorgi was off her shoulders.

“He sure is a little firecracker, eh?” Donna said, grinning tiredly.

“Sorry,” Sera sheepishly replied. 

Donna’s smile fell a moment later as she wrung her hands and averted her eyes. “Is, ah- is Brendan okay?”

“He will be soon from what the doctor said.” 

She nodded, lips pursed. “...Garroth n’ Zenix walked by earlier. Zenix… he really isn’t doing too hot, huh.” 

Sera hummed in response, letting her gaze fall to the cobble below them. She and Brendan had helped set the roads over here. It was all just packed dirt before. She felt sick.

“I…” Sera started again, unsure of what she was going to say, “I was going to go and check on everyone.”

Donna nodded, patting her gently on the shoulder. “Good luck, darlin’.”

Sera gave a firm nod and an unsure smile. They said their goodbyes, Donna walking into the farmhouse and Sera and Thorgi walking to the plaza.

The plaza was currently being used as Zenix’s training ground as he struggled with a bow and arrow. Garroth was talking to Logan, looking irritated as ever with his arms folded and his jaw set. On the bright side, nearly killing everyone with his lack of skill was causing Zenix’s mood to brighten-- his mind had finally left the farmhouse.

Sera walked over to Logan and Garroth, mentally preparing herself for whatever argument they were having.

“And another thing--” Logan cut himself off, eye catching Sera. “Oh. Lord Seraphaura coming to explain herself finally, eh?

“...I’m sorry?”

“And she acts like she doesn’t know what I’m talking about!” Logan cried incredulously. 

“Sir, please…” Garroth tiredly said, Logan talking over him as if he weren’t there in the first place.

“I don’t know what kind of hot shit village you think you’re running but this isn’t it. I heard that somebody got  _ shot  _ last night. What kind of position does that put me in? My wares? Irene above,  _ shot.  _ Nobody informed me there were bandits in this area!”

“Well, the man who was attacked is in stable condition now and will make a full recovery,” Sera began. “Garroth and Zenix will be out searching for the culprit tomorrow. We have had no other instances of this sort of thing.”

“I’m not selling anything until you get your shit together,” he spat. “I’m not losing my life over this place.”

Sera bristled, hands gripping the sides of her skirt. “Great. Apologies for the inconvenience,” she said through her teeth.

Logan stared at her for a moment, eyes hard and stony. “You need to get better at being a lord or your people are going to rot.”

Sera faltered. She went to open her mouth, but Logan was already returning to his stand. There was a pause.

“I’m sure he doesn’t mean that, M’lady,” Garroth said.

“You-- you don’t need to say that,” she responded. “...I think I’ll go check on Brian, Dale, and Molly.”

Garroth nodded. “Right. Checking on your citizens, good idea.” He paused. “I’ll go help Zenix with his training, then. Farewell, M’lady.”

She gave a firm nod, watching as he walked over to Zenix’s side, guiding his hands so he could actually manage to hit the target. The arrow went into the outer ring but he looked ecstatic nonetheless. 

She began walking to Molly’s house. It wasn’t a place she often visited-- Molly usually stuck around the Atrium for meals minus dinner and it wasn’t like Brian or Dale had the time to be home either, but as Sera had yet to see any of them around town, it was likely they were home.

She knocked once, Molly opening the door and greeting her with a hug. As Molly invited her in, she grew calmer until she was at peace sitting on the couch, Thorgi resting at her feet.

“What brings you to our corner of Phoenix Drop?” Molly asked, taking a seat at the other side of the room. “Brian and Dale are out working on Lord Malik’s old home, but they should be coming back soon.”

“Just wanted to check on everyone,” Sera said. “Is your family doing okay?”

“We’re doing fine! I’m sure Dale and Brian are grumbling about the extra work, hah. How have you been?”

Sera gave a tight smile. “Good.” 

She had no time to expand on the lie as the door swung open, however. Brian and Dale trudged in, sharing expressions of exhaustion among the dust and cobwebs littering their hair and faces. They didn’t seem to care about the grime or the guest; Brian made a beeline for the stairs without giving the room a second glance, and Dale almost followed suit when he saw Sera and Molly.

“Ah! Afternoon, m’lady and m’wife,” he said, raising an eyebrow at his own greeting. “What brings you to our home today, Lady Seraphaura?”

“Checking in,” she said, trying to relax and failing miserably. 

Dale beamed, sitting down next to Molly and giving her a kiss on the cheek. She looked only vaguely disgusted by the cobweb that ended up on her face. True love.

“Well! It’s always nice to get a visit.” He wrapped an arm around Molly’s shoulders. “And that reminds me! We found a cellar door at Lord Malik’s home. It was locked, but Brian found a key upstairs. He’s such a smart boy-- could be a scholar if he wanted, hah! But ah, we haven’t looked inside yet. We wanted the new lord to be the first to see what was inside.” He rifled through his pockets, holding out a rusty, charred key to Sera.

She took it, closing it tight in her hands.  _ Cellar at Malik’s. Don’t forget. _

“Just check it out whenever you’re free. We’ve checked the area-- chances are, you’re totally safe, but it might be smart to bring a guard with you due to recent events,” he said. 

Sera nodded. “Well, I’ll let you rest. Have a good rest of your day.”

“You as well,” Molly said. “Our doors are always open, m’lady!”

Sera smiled in response, waving as she dipped out the door. Her smile dissipated as she closed the door behind her, sighing tiredly.  _ Cellar at Malik’s.  _

“C’mon, Thorgi,” she said, scratching him behind the ears. The two proceeded to walk to Malik’s home, Sera twirling the key idly in her fingers. 

The house had been reduced to rubble. She told Thorgi to wait outside as she stepped in through the scorched doorframe. It felt different inside-- not that there was much ‘inside’ what with all the walls having been taken down, but it felt like she had stepped straight into another realm. The soles of her feet were warm with a fire that died out weeks ago.

Some of the rust had rubbed off on her finger, making it a dark brown color. She stared at it, some sort of wary resentment swirling in her gut. The room felt stuffy.

The floorboards had been ripped from where they once were hammered in place, revealing cobble stairs leading down, down into the depths of a dark hall. It would have been much worse at night, but she could strain her eyes to see the outline of a door still standing. It looked almost pristine, she noticed as she stepped down the stairs. It hadn’t been touched in a long time. 

The door was right in front of her now, the key in her hand, but she faltered. The apprehension clouding her thoughts was making her feel dizzy. 

_ It’s probably nothing,  _ she told herself.  _ Just a dusty, old room.  _ She placed the key in the keyhole, shutting her eyes as it clicked in pace. The door creaked open.

It made a horrible sound akin to a creature you had just stepped on the tail of. For a moment, it echoed, and all Sera could do was stand until she could pry her eyes open to stare at whatever laid beyond the door.

Beyond the door was a hallway making a sharp turn to the right. She hesitated before finally stepping inside, eyeing the walls uncertainly. Compared to the rest of the house, it was a dead cold.

Down the hall was a room, walls a deep, dark stone that felt like they were hugging Sera as she stepped inside. There was a candle, never lit, standing on the edge of a desk, but more importantly was the book resting next to it. It was a weathered, old journal with the name ‘Malik’ written on the inner side of the cover. 

It was dim and dusty in the room, but something told Sera that taking the book with her was a bad idea. She turned to the exit, straining for the little bits of light slipping through as she read the loopy, neat cursive of the first few entries. It was, succinctly, Malik’s life at Phoenix Drop. How he met his wife, the villagers there… there was a small section on Garroth, a vague description of a young knight who was just as stoic as Sera now knew him, then another about Zenix-- he was so small when he came to Phoenix Drop, teeming with nervous energy. That changed, of course. 

She got to the final entry.

It read, in a more forced hand:

_ “I fear my life may be taken soon. He is sending his knights after me-- I have seen their faces lurking among the forest for days now. My one wish is that they will spare my dear Matilda and the boy, although I know they were not weaned on ideals of mercy.  _

_ To the person reading this: possibly the next lord, or maybe Garroth-- heed my warning. His knights will come after you as they did me. They do not stop. They have seen bloodshed, tasted it, let it fester deep within them… they lost the ability to feel merciful or empathetic long ago. Their hunt is endless.  _

_ Your citizens depend on you. Do not let the knights get in the way. I am unsure if they can be killed. For your sake, I do hope they can. _

_ I give you my regards. _

_ Malik” _

The rest of the pages were blank, all the same, the pallid tone making her feel sick. She shut the book, setting it down with a newfound reverence. She left after a moment of blank staring, locking the door behind her. Her skin crawled as she left the ruined remains, beckoning Thorgi to come along with her. 

_ His knights will come after you as they did me. Whose knights? _

Something was beginning to tell her that Malik’s death wasn’t just an accident.

Sera had been in the cellar for much longer than she had hoped to be-- the sky was already dipping its toes into darkness, miraculous pinks and oranges pittering off into blues and blacks. Some stars dotted the horizon. 

She went down to the docks in an effort to let her nervous thoughts be washed away by the tide. Briefly, as she sat down on the salty wood, she wondered what would happen if someone pushed her in. If there were someone watching waiting, just beyond the trees, could they shoot her? Could she end up like Brendan, half dead, people clustering around her bedside? It would be easy. Painfully so.

“Hey, Sera!” Donna’s voice rang behind her. She yelled in shock, almost falling into the water. “Did I scare ya? Sorry,” she laughed a little, albeit worriedly. “Can I sit?”

“Go ahead,” Sera responded breathlessly, shutting her eyes in relief.  _ You’re not getting murdered tonight.  _ A smaller, more irritating voice added:  _ not yet, at least. _

Donna sat down next to her, taking a long look at her features. “..Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Sera said tiredly. “...Okay, that’s a lie. Today has been… odd.”

Donna nodded, eyes returning to the sunset rippling across the waves. “That it has been.” There was a pause, the pair silently listening to the flow of the water below them. “Something tells me Brendan isn’t the only thing on your mind,” she finally said.

Sera paused uncomfortably. “I, ah…”

“You don’t need to tell me,” Donna said hastily. “...Lord business?”

She nodded, relieved. “Yeah…”

Donna smiled sympathetically. “Is Logan getting to you, darlin’? You know he’s just bein’ tough on ya for no good reason.”

Sera hummed in response. His words echoed in her head.  _ You need to get better at being a lord or your people are going to rot.  _ It melded with the words in Malik’s journal, his loopy hand drilled into the space behind her eyes.  _ His knights will come after you. Your people are going to rot. His knights, his knights… _

Donna placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Listen to me, Sera, your people appreciate you very much. Malik… he wasn’t the best lord. You’re helping around the village, taking care into the thoughts of your citizens. You’ll do great things, I’m certain.”

“You really think so?”  _ Rotten. Rotting people. Better at being a lord. He’s after me. Irene, who is he? _

“Of course! Now, Kiki has me checkin’ on her little friends while she stays with Brendan, so I need to leave before they destroy the place. You’re doin’ amazing, Lord Sera.”

  
_ Lord Sera.  _ The words felt like hammering a nail into a coffin. She just smiled and nodded. “Good luck.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "'God save thee, ancient Mariner!  
> From the fiends, that plague thee thus!—  
> Why look'st thou so?'—With my cross-bow  
> I shot the ALBATROSS." - the rime of the ancient mariner, samuel taylor coleridge
> 
> genuinely so happy w how this chapter came out i proofread it and everything !!!! pls enjoy :] <3

Zenix’s leg bobbed up and down, up and down, over and over again. Ever since last night his adrenaline had been in a constant upward spike. He hadn’t calmed down. He wasn’t sure he ever would. 

He stared down at his hands. On the outside, they were the same, slightly weathered hands of a snarky guard in training, but deep down he knew something was different. Out of all the people in Phoenix Drop he was the only one that could know,  _ should  _ know about the new blood rushing through his veins. They still looked the same, though-- no change. The same hands he always had.  _ So why, then,  _ he asked himself,  _ did they do it? _

It was like interrogating a murderer. If the doctor messed up, it would be. Brendan’s blood would forever stain his fingertips, and nobody would be the wiser. 

Zenix saw them, the person in the woods. The face was obscured by brush and cloth, but it was a face regardless. As he had run back to Phoenix Drop screaming, he made sure he remembered the face. 

He let his hands fall, clasped tightly now on his shaking knees.  _ Why did you do it?  _ he asked them.  _ It’s your fault,  _ they dutifully responded, and a part of him knew they were right. Another, smaller part of him relished in this fact, worshipped the hands for their actions. He ignored this part desperately. 

“Are you ready to go?” Garroth asked from above him. 

He startled, putting his hands to the side as if in an effort to hide them. “Yes sir.”

Garroth always wore the helmet, but Zenix knew what he looked like. It was just another secret, one that Garroth was comfortable enough to share with him. He wasn’t sure even Malik knew Garroth’s face, but it wasn’t like he lived to be able to tell anyone anyway. (Zenix knew this better than anyone. He saw it happen. He saw Malik get engulfed, himself soon after. Another secret, all feathers making up the albatross resting on his shoulders. He tried very,  _ very  _ hard not to think about it.)

Garroth was talking now, saying something about how they might have to head to Brightport, but all Zenix could think about were secrets-- his, Garroth’s… Garroth certainly kept secrets--there was a reason he kept his face hidden, one that Zenix did not know--but his face was important to him, something he trusted Zenix and only Zenix with seeing. For a moment he wondered-- how would Garroth react if he knew of the smoke in Zenix’s lungs? The things hias hands did? Would he accept him, scorn him, kill him then and there?

“Garroth?” Zenix interrupted, a shake in his voice that made him feel nauseous. 

Garroth stopped, tilting his head slightly, as if to look at Zenix clearly. “Yes? Are you okay?”

He paused. “...It’s nothing. Will we get to ride a boat on the trip?”

He relaxed a little. “Most likely-- you said they went in the direction of the water, so it would be a good idea to search around there…”

Garroth continued to rattle on, Zenix no longer paying attention. 

They set out for the clearing where it had happened. The place looked the same, sickeningly so, washed in moonlight. If Zenix looked, he could still see the smatterings of Brendan’s blood caught on the grass. 

He went through the motions. Running, chasing, standing finally in the middle of a clearing. Searching, Brendan behind him where he was safe, protected by Zenix’s armor. Then, the drawing of a bow. A single, fluid motion of the hands, like the flickering of a flame. He felt sick. 

There was that ever present voice in the back of his head, celebrating at his actions. His hands burned white-hot— he feared that he would burn Garroth if they touched.  _ He’d know, then. They’d all know soon after that.  _ The smaller voice replied,  _ let them know. Let them burn for their scorn against you. You are all you need.  _

He pictured it again. Hands, scalding hands gripping Brendan’s shoulders, shoving him ahead. The blood never touched him, but his hands still ran red, red like fire, guilty, guilty red. 

“--Zenix.” It sounded like Garroth had been saying his name for a few minutes. “I think I found something.”

Zenix looked up, walked over, feeling the whole time like he was walking at the bottom of a river. The world felt cold around him, murky things with murky people and mud staining his boots. None of this was right. He hugged himself in a small effort to heat up.  _ Focus. _

Footprints. It was a broken set, partially hidden by wood and drier dirt, but they were certainly there, running in the direction of the water. They began following the trail, holding onto branches and bushes as to not slip in the mud. 

“Do you remember what they looked like?” Garroth asked.

_ Green eyes. Strands of brown hair. Long, green scarf.  _ Thinking back made him feel sick. He nodded. “Why?”

“Well, if he passed by Brightport as we think, he could be anywhere. If they’re trying to blend in, it would be good to give a description to Azura.”

_ That’s right,  _ Zenix thought,  _ The lord went missing.  _ “How long has it been since we visited her?”

“We still keep in touch,” Garroth said. “Raven seems to like her. I think she gives him dried fruit and jerky-- he’s always itching to get my letters to her, heh.”

Azura was an old friend of Garroth’s. They didn’t talk too much nowadays, but Zenix would see Garroth writing in the tower on occasion. Zenix had only met her once or twice-- years ago, when Zenix still used a wooden sword, Garroth had gone out on official business. He met Azura then. She was serious, stoic, focused on getting the job done before anything else, but very kind to him when he was around.

She gave him a hug when they left. Zenix never truly stopped thinking about how nice it felt to be held so protectively. 

“How is she?” He asked, snapping out of his reverie.

“Great, last I checked, but that was before Joh disappeared.” 

The pair grew silent, neither knowing really what to say. Azura was always the model guard-- blessed by the light of Esmund, Garroth would say, completely and utterly devoted to her lord, Burt. She loved him in the way the trees love rain and sun-- it was a necessity to her.

Zenix couldn’t shake the bad (or good, depending on which part of his head you’d ask) feeling surrounding Burt’s disappearance. He had heard--he had been  _ told _ \--the goal of a shadow knight-- amass power for the Shadow Lord. Eradicate lords anywhere else. Was this their doing? The answer was a nauseating ‘most likely.’

“Azura is a strong woman,” Garroth reassured him. “She is no stranger to grief.”

Zenix looked up. “Really?” She always seemed so… happy.

He nodded. “It isn’t my place to say what she’s been through, but she helped me when my brother passed.” 

Garroth didn’t mention family often. Almost never, really-- he avoided the subject as if it would kill him. Zenix knew nothing about Garroth and his family. He ran away from home, that much was easily gleaned from context clues. It made little sense, though. Why did he do it? What was the purpose of running off to Phoenix Drop, hiding his face? What kind of family would go hunting that far?

“I’m sorry,” Zenix said, stumbling a little over his words. He thought back to the time one of Kiki’s animals died and she went to Phoenix Drop for a shoulder to cry on. Brendan had asked her questions, soothed her. Would that help? “Was.. was your brother nice?”

Garroth was silent for a moment. “...Yes,” he finally said, “Very.” His voice was quiet, somber. 

“What was he like?” Zenix said this at the same time the little voice of Brendan asked it to Kiki. 

“Quiet. Observant.” Garroth thought for a moment. “It’s been a long time since I’ve really thought about it.” His hand ghosted over the hilt of his sword, thumb pressing at the names engraved on it. Zenix never read them-- it was something private to Garroth, some people he needed to fight for, and that was a secret that Zenix didn’t think Garroth wanted to share.

They were both silent for a moment, both pondering as they walked.

“I had a sister,” Zenix said all of a sudden. “She… she was really young when I left.”  _ Left. Ran from Tu’La like my life depended on it.  _ He tried to remember why he did it, but his motive didn’t come to mind. It had been so spur of the moment-- he saw a boat in the harbor, traders from Ru’an hauling barrels and crates onto the planks below them and he just.. slipped inside. No reason. It was just a chance he took-- a test, as if to see what would happen.  _ It’s always like that with you,  _ he thought bitterly. Even his death, his rebirth-- it wasn’t planned. He felt weak, and the glow of Malik’s house called to him.  _ Just to see what would happen. _

He remembered his sister’s face, but her name was lost to him. She was so small, swaddled up in a pale blanket, and he always stared at her with intense fascination. She looked like him but rounder. Softer. He wondered briefly what she was like now, a young girl. Did she have a favorite food or color? Did she know how to fight? If Zenix were there, he could have taught her. 

Did she remember him? 

Probably not. He hoped not.

Did their mother ever talk of him? What would she say? “This was your brother, Zenix. He left when he was twelve and we’re glad he’s stayed gone.”

Zenix glanced over at Garroth. They had stopped at some point, standing in the direction of the docks as Zenix spiraled. Garroth was staring intently. Zenix felt his eyes burning from behind the helm.

He averted his eyes, staring intensely at the bramble snaking across the forest floor. “I- uh, I don’t remember a lot about her.”  _ Not a lot to remember to begin with. _

He tried to think of her again. Small. Brown hair, browner eyes. She babbled at him as if she was explaining the plot to some great book or play. Sometimes he babbled back. He could feel it clearly, her hand wrapped tightly around his finger. Whenever he gripped a weapon, he thought of her, how she held on for dear life even though they were safe at home.

He wanted to say more, but there was nothing to say. Bits and pieces of memories littered his head, but he kept coming back to things. A hand on his finger. Running away. Malik’s fire. Just to see what would happen.

There was a sense of urgency within him. Why, he was unsure. Is that what his sister had felt, gripping on tighter than he ever had his own sword? What urgency did she feel? If Garroth hugged him now, there was no doubt of how vicelike Zenix’s grip would be.  _ These things just run in the family, I guess. _

Garroth stared at him a moment longer, giving an affirming hum. “We can visit her someday, you and I. I’d love to meet her.”

“That sounds nice,” he weakly responded. “Let’s- let’s keep moving.”

They started walking again, Garroth making idle chatter as they went to keep from the suffocating silence around them.  _ Maybe one day I’ll meet Garroth’s family.  _

The boat ride was a long, silent thirty minutes of sailing, Garroth at the helm while Zenix stared out at the inky water. His thoughts petered out at some point, effectively asleep despite the small part of him still awake, still whispering in his ear like the constant whizzing of a bug’s wings.

“We’re here,” Garroth said at some point, docking the boat and making quick work of tying it to the harbor. The staircase up was empty, dark. Zenix felt like he was in a haze.

Brightport was always nicer looking than Phoenix Drop. Now especially, its gates washed in lamplight, guards giving friendly smiles as Zenix and Garroth entered. The city was quiet due to the late hour, but it was as gorgeous as Zenix remembered.

Back long ago, when he made the decision to leave, he had been carted off to O’Khasis. He remembered little of it, but it was large and authoritarian, too stiff and stuffy for his taste. Phoenix Drop was the core opposite of it, tiny and fresh, but Brightport was the midpoint of the two. If he wasn’t already tied to Phoenix Drop, he’d want to live there.

They walked to the guard tower (an actual  _ tower _ ), Garroth anxiously asking one of the guards standing post outside where Azura would be. They pointed him in the direction of the lord’s home.

Joh’s house, unlike the ruins of Malik’s, looked safe. Locked up tight, a sign on the outside saying that Joh was on official business. It was a front, of course, something small so that people didn’t panic. Zenix grimaced.

“Be nice,” Garroth warned as he knocked on the door. 

“I’m always nice, you b-- meanie.”

“That’s a start,” he said wryly. 

“Didn’t you read the sign?” Azura called from inside, interrupting Zenix before he could earn himself a month of chores.

“Azura!” Garroth said, “It’s Garroth and Zenix.”

The door cracked open. Azura’s tired eyes peered at them, brightening when she saw Garroth’s helm and Zenix’s face. “Esmund above-- come in! What are you two doing here?”

The pair of disheveled guards shuffled into the house, Azura shutting and locking the door behind them. The three sat down, Zenix and Garroth together, Azura in front of them. Azura… she looked awful. 

“We’re here on business,” Garroth began, pausing for a moment. “...But, ah, how are you holding up?”

Azura squinted at him, raising an eyebrow. “You better not be here just to ask me how I’m feeling.”

“I don’t care about you  _ that  _ much,” Garroth dryly responded, Azura chuckling. “Seriously, though. I know how hard it is to… yeah.”

“He’s- he’s not dead, Garroth. Don’t talk about him like that.” She straightened herself a little, voice strained. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

_ She’s lying,  _ the little voice in the back of Zenix’s head crowed,  _ They’re so dependent on their lords. Look at her, she’s a mess without him.  _ For once, Zenix had no retort back. All he could do was stare at how thin her hands had grown, her sunken eyes, the perpetual, hazy frown on her lips.

“You said you were here on business?” Azura prompted, cutting away the silence. 

“Right,” Garroth said. “We’re looking for someone, and we think they might be here. They’re a criminal-- they shot a farmer in Phoenix Drop.”

“Oh, Esmund,” Azura murmured, placing a hand on her mouth.

“We followed their trail and it led us here. Zenix can identify them-- we thought they might try to hide out in town.”

The two looked at Zenix expectantly. He shifted uncomfortably. “Well, uh… they had brown hair and green eyes. They wore a green scarf and a black cloak. They carried a bow and arrow.”  _ They shot my best friend.  _ A guilty pause in his thoughts.  _ They tried to shoot me. Then I.. _

_ I did what I had to. _

_ No? No. It was an accident, a fluke. Slip of the hand. A mistake. _

Azura hummed, nodding. “Haven’t seen anyone like that around yet, but I’ll let my guards know they should keep their eyes peeled. Where do you two plan to look tomorrow?”

Garroth and Zenix shared an uncertain glance. Zenix shrugged.

Azura looked at them with a small grin. “...Really?”

“What are you smiling about?” Zenix asked defensively. 

“Nothing, nothing, just… expected Mr. ‘spent every waking moment of guard school berating me for not writing down my schedule’ over here to have some semblance of a plan,” She wryly chuckled. “Who’s the competent one now?”

“I deserve that, fine,” Garroth responded, Azrua giving a defiant grin. 

“Well, the fields past the werewolf village would be a good place to start. That’s where I’d go, at least. It’s best to leave the werewolves themselves alone, though-- they’re not the biggest fan of us these days.”

“Why?” Zenix asked.

Azura shrugged. “Didn’t say. I mean, some people can be a little rude to them sometimes, but they’ve never been this hostile. Just leave them be so you don’t end up one yourself.”

Garroth nodded. “Thank you, Azura-- for everything.”

“Yeah, yeah. Where are you staying the night?”

Garroth and Zenix exchanged another uncertain glance.

Azura raised an eyebrow. “..Don’t tell me you didn’t plan that. Do you even have tents?”

“To be fair, it was very spur of the moment...” Garroth said.

Azrua laughed, shaking her head. “Esmund, you two are going to get yourselves killed. I should be asking you if  _ you’re  _ okay. You can stay here tonight, I’m sure Joh has extra blankets somewhere.”

“Thank you, Azura,” Garroth said genuinely. He elbowed Zenix.

Zenix rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Azura.”

“Anytime for my two favorite Phoenix Drop guards. Don’t tell Dale or Brian.” She winked, getting up and walking into another room.

Garroth chuckled. “She hasn’t changed one bit, huh?”

Zenix smiled despite himself. “I missed her.”

“Me too.”

The pair set up for the night, Zenix on the couch, Garroth on the floor (“He’s a growing boy, you want him to have back problems?” Azura had said). Zenix dozed off quickly, taken soon after by a dream-- a memory.

He didn’t trust Garroth, then, but Garroth was determined. It had been so long ago-- years at that point, not too terribly long after Zenix had made his escape. Garroth was trusting, kind, patient when Zenix felt like the world was all against him. He should have appreciated it more.

Garroth was never afraid to show his face to Zenix in that first year. It was a symbol, really, of the trust he extended to the boy, a way of saying  _ I understand. I will keep you safe.  _ Zenix understood after a week of incessant questioning. He did not know the full story, but he and Garroth shared some kinsmanship in their situations. 

It was morning. Zenix had walked down into the kitchen of the guard home, early but not as early as Garroth always was. He stood, helmet off, making pancakes, humming to himself. 

“Morning, Zenix!” He chirped, placing down a platter with three pancakes stacked and steaming on top of one another, a slab of butter melting on the top. “Did you sleep well?”

Zenix nodded, puncturing the pancakes with his fork. “Did you?”

“I always do.” Garroth sat down, eating from his own plate with a patient smile. 

This was the song and dance they shared every morning-- Garroth would ask small questions, Zenix would give small answers, then they would eat in silence and begin the duties of the day. That day had been different, however. Garroth seemed unfocused, eyes darting out the window every few minutes.

“Are you looking for something?” Zenix finally asked, carving faces into his last pancake.

“Yes, actually!”

“What for?”

“You. It’s a surprise.”

“Can you give me a hint?”

Garroth thought for a moment, humming. “No, it’ll give it away.”

Zenix rolled his eyes. They sat in silence for a bit, but now Zenix was checking the window, too.

At some point Garroth stood. His smile was subdued, as were all of his expressions, but Zenix could tell he was excited. Garroth cracked the window open with a resounding creak, Zenix craning his neck to see what was on the other side.

Zenix caught the glint of golden scales and gasped. Garroth turned, a grin on his face, holding something wrapped up in fabric, but Zenix was already moving past him to get a better look at the wyvern perched on the windowsill. 

It was smaller than he imagined a wyvern would be, staring at him with black, glittery eyes regarding him with resigned curiosity. Its wings fluttered. Zenix watched in awe. He had never seen a wyvern before-- he had heard tell, everyone had, but many thought they went extinct long ago. Zenix had always admired them, though; they were big and strong. Regal, almost. Feared.

“This is Raven,” Garroth said. “Raven, Zenix, Zenix, Raven.”

“He’s real?” Zenix asked, hand lingering over Raven’s head before Raven bit one of his fingers. “Ow!”

“He’s a little shy, but yes.” Garroth quickly grabbed gauze from an overhead cabinet, handing it to Zenix. “He’s not the biggest fan of being pet, but I’m sure you know that already.”

Zenix grimaced at his finger. “I don’t think your surprise likes me.”

“He’s like that with everyone,” Garroth responded, showing Zenix some of the scars on his own hands. “He and I have known each other for years. You get used to it.” He placed the still-hidden object on the table, exchanging it for a scroll now tightly held in Raven’s jaw.

“What’s that for?”

“Have I told you about Azura?” Zenix shook his head. “She’s an old friend of mine who lives in Brightport. We write letters to each other and Raven delivers them.”

Zenix nodded slowly. “So… Raven is a messenger?”

“Yes, basically.”

“What’s  _ that,  _ then?” Zenix asked, gesturing at the object on the table.

“Your real surprise. Do you want to open it?”

Zenix nodded vigorously, abandoning his post at Raven’s side to tear aside the fabric. Inside was a sword made of iron, the metal glimmering in the morning sun. The hilt had a gem attached, a deep, honey-orange tone with a bug lifelessly trapped inside. 

“It’s amber,” Garroth commented. “I thought you’d like it.”

“You thought correctly,” Zenix said under his breath, twisting the hilt in his hands. The weight felt just right. He held the hilt tightly, oh so tightly, turning to look at Garroth. Garroth leaned against the wall, a proud smile on his face, and Zenix plunged the blade deep into his chest.

He twisted it once, twice. Garroth’s eyes widened as the blood bloomed on his white shirt. He clutched at the blade, hands gripping onto the hot iron, but it would not budge. He looked betrayed, confused. All Zenix could do was smile, celebrate while Garroth was brought to his knees. 

Zenix woke up with a shaky, terrified gasp, sitting straight up, back straighter than the blade of a sword as he came back to his senses. 

It was dark now, Garroth silent, Zenix gripping tightly at the hem of the woolen blanket draped over his legs. He looked at his fingers-- the wyvern bite was still there, a ghost of the memory etched in his skin. 

He calmed down quickly as if it hadn’t happened in the first place, breath evening out until it was a whisper. He propped himself up on his elbows, staring at Garroth’s sleeping face illuminated in the golden glow from the lanterns outside. His face, not the metal one, looked tired but peaceful— he slept easy in the comfort of Burt’s home. 

Zenix was not upset. That was the kicker.

He felt nothing when he stared at Garroth, pictured his twisted, betrayed expression and it  _ terrified  _ him. There had been a brief shock of guilt, an apology at the edge of his lips when he first opened his eyes, but now it was gone. Zenix now felt wholly and utterly devoid of grief, just… confused. The small (now bigger, it seemed) voice echoed deep in his head:  _ I did what I had to. Just to see what would happen. _

Zenix finally looked up, tearing his eyes away from Garroth to stare at the window. A face, cold and calculating, met his eyes. 

For a moment the two stared at each other. She was masked, eyes a vibrant purple, hair a shock of white. She looked at him with a set resentment, staring deep within him. Zenix felt like his insides were being picked at. She raised an eyebrow as if in question, then turned and disappeared into the shadows the lamplight could not reach, and Zenix was once more left with more questions than he could ever have answers to.

\---

“He’s a knight, alright,” Sasha said, pulling down her mask with a sigh. “...Are we sure this is a good idea?”

“I don’t really have a say.” Vylad twisted an arrow in their hands idly.  _ Around the longest, but still treated like a subordinate.  _

Sasha nodded. “I suppose you’re right,” she hummed. “Do we know when Gene’ll get back?”

They shrugged. “Dropping off a lord shouldn’t take too long, right?”

Sasha nodded again, staring firmly at the wall. 

Vylad raised an eyebrow. “What’s on your mind?”

“It seems a little strange not to tell the new knight anything.”

“Gene said it was a test, right? He’s new. We need to see how he fares.”  _ We shouldn’t have to. He shouldn’t have died, none of us should have.  _

“You’re right.” She paused. “...It’s just... he’s still a kid.”

I _ was a kid,  _ he wanted to argue. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. Not like we can do anything about it, anyway. We can help guide him after tomorrow.”

Sasha hummed in response. “After tomorrow,” she echoed. “Gene might be pissed.”

“When is he not?”

She snickered. “Good point.”

Vylad did not smile below his scarf. 

\---

The morning felt like a thick haze.

Zenix was not himself today. He felt sick, almost-- hot all over, blood rushing through him like embers eating away paper despite how icy his skin felt. None of this was right, and yet he did nothing to stop it.

He had fallen asleep again later the night before to have fragments of dreams, but the first was still fresh in his mind, burning like a brand. He was not distressed, no matter how hard he wished he would be. It had no effect on him. His mind did not race, did not catastrophize at the thought. When he opened his eyes, he had remembered it. He thought of it, turned it over in his head first thing and… nothing. He sat up, finding Garroth’s space empty, and walked into the kitchen to eat breakfast.

“Morning, kid!” Azura said, tossing him an apple he caught with one hand. 

“G’morning.” He sat down. “Where’s Garroth?”

“Out gathering supplies, just in case. I think he’s mainly out grabbing lunch for later, though.”

Zenix nodded, falling silent.

Azura paused for a moment, glancing at him with a raised eyebrow. “...Are you okay, bud?”

“I’m okay.”

She abandoned her own apple to sit down next to him. “You sure?”

Zenix faltered for a moment, opening his mouth to speak even though he didn’t have an answer. “Just… had a bad dream, s’all.”  _ It wasn’t bad. you  _ liked  _ it.  _

Azura gave him a sympathetic look. “Wanna talk about it?”

“ _ No _ ,” he said vehemently, floundering at her confused look. “Er-- I mean, no thank you. It… it was kind of… personal.”  _ Sure. _

“Well, okay,” Azura responded gently. Then, very cautiously, as if she were dealing with a frightened animal, she wrapped him in a tight hug. Zenix made a small, confused noise, hugging back weakly anyway.

Azura held on tight as she always did. A familiar sense of urgency bubbled up in Zenix’s chest, blooming like spring blossoms.  _ Hold on while you can,  _ the voice whispered.  _ It’ll all go to hell in due time. _

Zenix felt anxious in the embrace. It was like holding fire in a clenched fist-- he would burn her in a second, he was sure of it. If she would just let go, step back, run for her life (-- _ she should be afraid of you. She should bow before your blazing glory-- _ ) she would be safe. If only, if only, if only. 

A knock came at the door and Zenix nearly jumped out of his skin. Azura let go, giving him a kind smile.

“Must be Garroth. I’ll be right back.” She walked into the other room.

Zenix could hear the sound of the door opening, hear Garroth and Azura exchanging hello’s. Everything felt sickenly real all of a sudden, Zenix’s actions, his guilt. He looked down at his hands. They looked the same.  _ Irene,  _ he had pushed Brendan. He had pushed Brendan into harm's way for his own benefit. He stretched his hand, wiggling his fingers. He had control over his own hands.  _ He had control over his own hands.  _ It didn’t matter who he blamed it on-- his hands, the voice in his head, it was all him. It was all a part of  _ him.  _

“Ready to head out?” Garroth asked, giving Zenix a pat on the shoulder.  _ When did he even walk in? _

“Mhm,” Zenix hummed, snagging the apple from off the table. “Thanks, Azura.”

“Anytime,” Azura said, giving Garroth a goodbye hug. “Be safe.”

On the walk over to the field Azura had directed them to, Zenix’s brain was eerily silent. There were no whispers, no urges, just… quiet. He fiddled anxiously with the handle of his bow. The thing felt better in his hands than a sword, and Garroth thought that having a long range weapon might come in handy. 

Zenix was calm. The shock had subsided, and for now he focused on his steps as they trekked across an open field. Wildflowers dotted their path. Zenix stared at the poppies blowing in the wind. Under other circumstances, this would have made such a nice spot. 

“Do you see that?” Garroth asked. Zenix tore his eyes from the foliage, looking to see a door carved into a hill. “Looks suspicious.”

All of a sudden Zenix was drowning. His dread was insurmountable, an ironic hill that had him by the neck. Smoke was filling up his lungs, apprehension making him stop in place, trapped like a bug in amber. He tightened his grip on the handle of his bow.

_ Why can’t we have nice things? Why can’t we just sit in a field and watch the poppies grow?  _ He asked himself, knowing neither the answer nor the reason why he asked in the first place.

“Let’s check it out, then,” he finally choked out. 

Garroth nodded, placing a hand on his hilt. “I’ll examine the front. Check out the back.”

Zenix gave a tight nod, walking to the side of the hill to stare at the walls.  _ It’s your fault Brendan is in pain.  _ He counted the cracks in the dirt-- one, two, three.  _ He’s hurt. You shoved him in front of you.  _ Four, five, six.  _ You don’t feel bad. You shouldn’t feel bad. All he did was get in the way. _

Zenix swallowed thickly, the skin inside his throat tasting like ash. Nothing interesting on the wall, and the other side of the mountain was looking even less promising. He turned back to tell Garroth, but stopped short.

Garroth was standing, staring out at the field ahead of him, back turned to Zenix. The scene was beautiful-- the wind carded gently through tall grass and flowers, birdsong diligently following it. The sun shone brightly, cascading down over the river nearby. Zenix could hear the rushing water, feel the cool wind on his face. If he concentrated, he could smell the pollen rushing past him. 

It was so peaceful. 

Zenix knocked an arrow in his bow.

_ Finally. _

He drew back the string.

_ This is your destiny. This is what you were made for. _

Zenix the runaway. Zenix the stranger. Zenix the apprentice. Zenix the  _ Knight. _ It all led up to this. He gripped the handle of his bow so tightly his knuckles went whiter than the clouds aimlessly wandering above them. If this were before, he would have screwed his eyes shut, but now they remained glued open.

Zenix released the rope from his fingers. Then came the snap, then came the sound of metal hitting skin, then came the dull thud when Garroth hit the poppies below him, then came the silence as the grass ran red.

As he stood there, wood splintering in his fingers, all Zenix the Knight could think to do was laugh.


End file.
